


Roommates

by bleakfest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Friends With Benefits, Loud Sex, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Religious Conflict, Roommates, Sex Toys, Slut Hermione, Slut Shaming, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 58,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29466339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakfest/pseuds/bleakfest
Summary: Hermione, a college freshman, is randomly assigned to a fiery redheaded roommate, Ginny Weasley. Their personalities clash as they each try to adjust to college life, but when Hermione accidentally walks in on Ginny everything changes...*Updated Weekly!*
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Seamus Finnigan/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 34
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

The door closed behind her father, leaving Hermione alone in her new room. She heard him herding her mother. They had a long drive ahead of them and it was late afternoon now. She turned away from the door, feeling her eyes burn, determined not to cry. She was eighteen for god's sake. Legally an adult. She could deal with being left alone at college, even if it meant living four hours from home surrounded by strangers.

The sound of her family faded, replaced by other voices, other footsteps. Other students moving into the freshman dorm, other families carrying their possessions, talking, shouting, laughing, slamming drawers and doors occasionally. When her family drove out of town, there wouldn't be a single person she knew in the city around her.

Hermione sat down on her bed, which took all of four steps. It was a small room, and smaller still with two twin beds and two desks in it. Two three-drawer dressers were stacked between the beds, separating the room. Hermione's bed was made, a cheerful flowered comforter adding some much needed color to the room. Her mother had insisted on making the bed before she left.

A set of sheets and blankets lay folded on the other bed, evidence—along with the clothing tucked into the lower set of drawers—that her roommate had been here. They smelled as crisp and clean as they looked. Hermione wondered about her. The school had provided her name and hometown, but that was all Hermione knew of her. Ginny Weasley, from Alexandria, Virginia.

Hermione had never been there, despite growing up in southern Virginia. All she knew was that it was a suburb of Washington, DC. She wondered what Ginny would be like? Would she be friendly? Would they get along?

The door opened, startling Hermione out of her thoughts. A young ginger woman entered the room. She grinned. "Hi! You must be Hermione."

Hermione nodded. "That's me. You're Ginny?"

"Sure am." Ginny closed the door, then offered Hermione her hand.

"Pleased to meet you." There were no similarities between the two. Ginny's hair was long and flaming red, unlike Hermione's untamable dark mane. Bright green eyes instead of plain brown. Her athletic figure put Hermione's skinny frame to shame, and Ginny dressed to emphasize it in a black halter and green shorts that contrasted with her freckled skin. Hermione glanced at her own arms and legs, protruding from an oversized t-shirt and long shorts. She preferred reading inside to sunbathing.

"Same here," Ginny said. She glanced around. "Pretty small room, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "It is."

Ginny gestured at the dresser. "I hope you don't mind that I took the lower set. I'm not real tall, as you may have noticed. For all I knew, you'd be a giant."

"'Fraid not."

"So I see. Well, we'll manage." Ginny moved the pile of bedding to one side and settled on the mattress. "So, Hermione, tell me about yourself."

Hermione felt her mouth dry up. "There's not a lot to tell."

Ginny gave her a skeptical look. "That can't be true. Everybody has a story. You've got a family, right?"

The reminder tightened Hermione's throat. Her parents would be just reaching the highway about now, on their way home—without her. "I'm an only child."

Ginny's gaze intensified. "And what do your parents do?"

"Dentists."

Ginny asked more questions. Hermione answered them. Ginny seemed genuinely fascinated by her life in a tiny rural farm town. Hermione only realized afterward that she'd told Ginny a great deal more than she'd thought at the time.

"Wow, you really got me going. You're good at this."

Ginny shrugged, but her smile revealed her pleasure at the praise. "Thanks. I like talking to people, and learning about them. And it's good practice. I want to be a reporter."

"You're gonna study journalism?"

"That's my plan. You?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. English, maybe. I haven't decided."

Ginny smiled. "Well, you have plenty of time to figure it out."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione unlocked the door, pushed it open. Fumbled for the light switch. Light filled the room just as Ginny yelped in surprise. Hermione froze in the doorway, shocked beyond words. Ginny and a stranger lay on her bed naked, faces turned toward her, eyes wide.

Hermione's face flamed at the realization of what she'd interrupted. The boy on the bed with Ginny lay atop her, supporting himself on his outstretched arms. Ginny's legs were wrapped around his hips, her ankles laced. They stared at her for a moment longer, just as shocked as Hermione felt.

The frozen moment of mutual shock ended. Ginny and her partner hastily grabbed for the bed covers, pulling them up to cover themselves. Hermione ducked her head, cheeks burning, horrified to have interrupted...this. She fumbled with her key for an interminable period before freeing it from the lock.

"Hermione—"

"I'll just...go," Hermione said. She ignored Ginny's cry. Responding would make it all too real to avoid. "I"m sorry I...." she didn't know what she was sorry for. "I'm sorry. I'll go."

She backed out, pulling the door closed. She felt and heard it latch. She stood with her hand on the knob, shaking with embarrassment and fear, though she wasn't sure what had frightened her so badly. In the silence of the hallway, Hermione heard a faint giggle from inside the room. Ginny was laughing. At her? It hurt to think so.

Hermione cocked her head, listening. The giggle wasn't repeated, though she thought she heard whispering. Then silence. Until it was broken by the faint squeak of springs and a soft repetitive slapping noise. Hermione gasped, shocked anew by what she heard—and by her own behavior. Listening at the door!

She jerked her hand from the knob as if it were hot, and stepped back. She fled the door to her room. Indeed, she fled the floor, taking the stairs back down to the lobby of the building and the conversation pit there.

Hermione watched until she saw the boy leave. She almost didn't recognize him. She'd caught only a glimpse, and he'd been naked. The dark haired young man in jeans and t-shirt who moved purposefully across the lobby toward the door didn't register at first. Hermione wasn't sure it was him until he caught sight of her. The sudden rush of color to his cheeks and the way he ducked his head, averting his gaze, proved his identity. He hurried out into the night.

She didn't return immediately. It seemed only right to give Ginny some time to clean up before she barged in. She hesitated at the door. She knocked.

"It's open."

Hermione cracked the door. "Are you decent?"

"Yes."

Hermione poked her head through the doorway. Ginny was dressed and sitting at her desk. Her bed had been hastily remade. Hermione stepped inside and closed the door. She found it difficult to look at Ginny.

"Well," Ginny said. "I guess we should talk."

"I guess." Hermione sat down at her own desk, studying the bare desktop. The desks were at the feet of the beds, facing them. Ginny was sitting to Hermione's right, a vaguely perceived shape in her peripheral vision.

"I guess we need a signal of some kind."

Hermione turned her head. "A signal?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, so we don't walk in on one another like that."

Hermione opened her mouth but didn't know what to say. It didn't matter. Before she could formulate a response, Ginny went on. "I'd have done it earlier, but I really didn't expect to get laid so soon."

"You didn't...." Hermione repeated, shocked by the casual way Ginny described it.

Ginny took it as a question. "No. I met him at the mixer. He was cute, and charming, and, well, it's been a while. So I invited him back for coffee." She made air quotes with her fingers.

"He's not your boyfriend?"

Ginny looked surprised by the question. "Oh no, I just met him today."

"Today?" She'd had sex with someone she just met?

"Yeah. So it was kind of a surprise. Anyhow, we should agree on a signal. I'd hate to walk in on you that way."

Hermione didn't know how to respond. The thought that she might be caught in bed with a boy—that she'd be in bed with a boy in the first place—was novel. Her cheeks warmed again. "That's...not necessary," she said.

Ginny looked puzzled. "Of course it is. You'll want privacy."

Hermione couldn't meet Ginny's eyes. "I don't...."

"You don't what? Have a boyfriend?"

Hermione shook her head, still not looking at Ginny.

"Well, the term is just beginning. There's plenty of time to find one."

Hermione didn't answer. She felt terribly uncomfortable, her cheeks burning, her throat tight. Sex wasn't a topic of conversation she felt comfortable with. Especially as it applied to her.

Ginny remained silent for a minute. Then, "Hermione, are you a virgin?"

The surprise in Ginny's voice caught Hermione's attention. Surprise and something else. Hermione glanced up, suspecting amusement. Mockery. But all she saw in Ginny's face was surprise, and perhaps a little pity.

"No," Hermione confessed. "Not a virgin." She'd had sex. Twice. The first time the night of her senior prom, with her date. It hadn't been much fun for her. The second time, a month later, again with Cormac McLaggen. It wasn't any better for her—nor for Cormac, she supposed. He never asked her out again.

"But you aren't planning to have any here at school."

She hadn't thought about it, frankly. It had simply never crossed her mind. She'd tried it, found that it didn't live up to its billing, and though hurt by Cormac's de facto breakup with her, it relieved her of having to turn him down the next time. "No," she told Ginny.

Ginny didn't reply, but her expression spoke volumes. "What?" Hermione snapped.

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing." She might have left it at that, but then she added, "I just...."

"You just what?"

Ginny pursed her lips, clearly considering whether to answer. Hermione waited. Ginny shrugged and said, "I just can't imagine not wanting sex."

Hermione had no answer for that. It wasn't as if she didn't think about sex. It just...didn't seem likely.

"Well, even if you're not going to use it, we still need some kind of signal," Ginny said. "Just so you know when I have a boy in the room."

Hermione frowned, not liking the idea. She'd been here for fewer than forty-eight hours and Ginny was already fornicating with a stranger. "You aren't going to do this a lot, are you?"

Ginny's smile slipped. "You mean sex? Every chance I get."

Hermione gaped, shocked by Ginny's brazen attitude.

"I like sex," Ginny said. "I like it a lot. I want to have lots of it, as often as I can." She paused to study Hermione's face. Hermione hadn't known Ginny long, but she knew determination when she saw it. "I'll try to do it elsewhere some of the time, but some of the time it's gonna happen here. I'll try not to inconvenience you too much."

Hermione couldn't look at her. She nodded as she turned away. "Okay." It wasn't okay, but she didn't want to fight with Ginny over it. What if Ginny got mad at her? Shouted, or gave her the silent treatment? Or—threw things? Hermione wasn't ready to face any of that. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny wasn't kidding. Hermione grew accustomed to the buzz of her phone announcing that Ginny was "entertaining" again, or coming back to the room two or three times a week to find a note from Ginny written on the whiteboard mounted on their door. Please do not disturb, written in Ginny's hand, followed by the time. Afternoons and evenings were prime times for Ginny's assignations. Hermione could only rely on the room being empty—or at least not being off limits—in the morning, when Ginny had most of her classes.

Hermione suspected that the notes were as much a way of bragging as a warning that she was occupied. How else to explain the times written in and then crossed out, sometimes several in an evening? She could just have texted Hermione when she was going to be using the room—which, to be fair—she did. But she also used the white board. She wanted Hermione—and everyone else in their hall—to know just how often she was getting laid.

Hermione got into the habit of staying away from the room most of the time. She came to know the library, the local delis and coffee shops, and the conversation pit in the dorm lobby very well. Fortunately she found some friends on campus, fellow science fiction fans and gamers. She spent a couple of evenings a week with them, at a weekly club meeting and playing role-playing games in the room shared by a couple of the gamers. That still left plenty of nights when she couldn't return to her dorm until Ginny gave her the all clear.

Her frustration and annoyance grew as the weeks went by, all the worse for not being voiced. Aside from her obsession with sex, and the way she monopolized the room while in bed with someone, Ginny was a great roommate. She was neat, friendly, helpful, and fun to be around. She could be a good friend if Hermione wanted. That made her behavior in this one area that much more aggravating.

Hermione tried to talk to her about it, but Ginny was unyielding. She refused to pass up an opportunity for sex—and said so in so many words.

"Why?" Hermione asked after another attempt at discussing the issue, without really intending to. It just slipped out. She understood, intellectually, that sex was enjoyable, though her own experience of it left a lot to be desired. But lots of things were enjoyable—and Ginny didn't obsessively pursue those things.

Ginny looked down at her hands on her knees. When she spoke her voice was low. "Well, I could tell you that I had cancer when I was young, and didn't think I'd live to be old enough to date, much less marry. That after I finally beat the cancer, I determined that I was never going to pass up a chance to live, or an opportunity for pleasure, because I knew how short life could be."

When she looked up, Hermione saw the teasing smile and realized she'd been had. "I could tell you that," Ginny said, "but I'd be lying. I was never sick. No more than any other kid."

She shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, roomie. I just really like sex. Can't get enough of it. Given a choice between sex and just about anything else, I'll choose sex every time. I guess I've just got a very high libido."

"I guess so." There didn't seem to be anything to say to that.

Ginny sighed. "I know I've been monopolizing the room, and you've been staying away a lot. I'll try not to be quite so selfish in the future. But I gotta be honest, whenever I can arrange to have some guy between my legs giving me orgasms—I'm gonna do it."

And that was that. Ginny wasn't going to let an opportunity slip away. She'd go to the boy's room if possible, but they had roommates too. If Ginny found the room empty when she arrived with a boy in tow, she used it.

The maddening thing about it was that otherwise Ginny was a great roommate. She was neat, she did her share of cleaning the bathroom, and she allowed Hermione to make use of the mini-fridge she'd brought to school. They spent a lot of time talking, getting to know one another, and Hermione liked her. She was even a good role model for studying—and Hermione needed one. The first two tests Hermione had in her classes were a shock.

"You failed them?" Ginny asked. She'd come into the room—alone for a change—to find Hermione seated at her desk staring at her test results.

"I failed one. I passed the other—barely."

"Did you study?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess. I read over my notes, and reread the chapters we covered."

"That's...not really studying," Ginny said. "Not the way I was taught, anyhow."

"No?"

Ginny shook her head. "Is that what you did in high school?"

Hermione nodded.

"And you did well?"

"I always got A's in high school," Hermione bragged.

"Huh."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"You must be pretty smart. I had to study to get good grades. Did you ever study?"

"I...tried," Hermione said. But not very hard. It hadn't come easily to her so she'd avoided it, which only made things worse. She didn't like admitting that—was surprised to find herself doing so, in fact. Ginny had a knack for drawing her out that way.

"Well, unlike some people," she gave Hermione a mock glare, "I have to study to keep my grades up. And as it happens, I need a study partner. How about we schedule some time to study together? I'll show you what I do. You can see if it works for you."

Hermione nodded. "I'd like that," she squeaked. Why was she feeling so choked up over a simple offer like that? It took a moment for her to realize her whole body was tensed, as if anticipating a storm of accusations and disappointment. And she was. That was exactly what she'd come to expect from her parents when she confessed to bad grades.

"You okay?" Ginny asked.

Hermione realized she'd been sitting silently for a minute or more, lost in her thoughts. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking."

Ginny didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't press. They agreed on a time for their first study session. It was a revelation. Hermione discovered that she really didn't have a clue about how to truly study. It was a lot more work than the desultory attempts she'd made. But it paid off very quickly, when her next test result was vastly improved.

She burst into the room, eager to share the news—and her thanks—with Ginny, then backed out just as fast, eyes averted.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm afraid there's nothing we can do," Mrs. Sprout said.

Hermione had approached the Housing administrator without much hope. It still stung to be turned down so bluntly. "Nothing?"

Mrs. Sprout looked like she wanted to sigh. "It's early in the year, Ms. Granger—"

"Hermione."

Mrs. Sprout smiled. "Hermione, then. It's early in the school year. All the campus housing is occupied. It's possible that some spots could open up in a few weeks or months, as students drop out or transfer to other schools.

"But as I'm sure you were told, we have more students than we can accommodate in the dorms. We only guarantee a spot on campus to freshmen. It's quite likely that either you or...Ginny, or both of you, will have to find an apartment off campus for your sophomore year."

"Oh." Yes, she'd been told as much.

"Is it so bad?" Mrs. Sprout asked. "Your situation? Isn't there some way you and your roommate can learn to get along?"

"It's not that." Hermione didn't want to give the woman the wrong impression. "We get along okay. I like Ginny."

"Then I don't understand. Why do you want another roommate?"

Hermione looked away, unable to meet the woman's eyes. Because Ginny is constantly having sex in our room. I spent more time away from the room than in it.

"Hermione?"

"It's just that...." Hermione felt disconnected from her voice. It ought to be so easy to say, but the words stuck in her throat. "Ginny, she—"

The silence stretched between them. "She's having," Hermione glanced sidelong at Mrs. Sprout. "You know...sex."

Mrs. Sprout's frown of puzzlement lifted. "Ah," she said. "And you disapprove?"

"What? No." Or not much. And it really wasn't her place to judge. "But she does it"—she stumbled over it—"a lot."

"A lot?"

"Every day, almost."

"I understand how that could be a problem. You're feeling like she's monopolizing the room? That you can't spend time there because of what's going on?"

Hermione nodded, relief at finally making herself understood unknotting her muscles.

"I'm afraid that there's still nothing I can do. There simply aren't any openings in other rooms. I would suggest that you try to find a student willing to swap with you, but if the problem is as bad as you suggest, I doubt anyone would be interested.

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to make the best of it. I can put your name on the waiting list for any openings, but I don't want to give you false hope. You'd be at the end of quite a list. The chances of your getting another room assignment are remote.

"You're both adults. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to settle your differences between yourselves."

Hermione posted notices seeking to swap rooms on the university's student forum, as well as actual 3×5 cards on an honest-to-god bulletin board in the center of the campus. No one responded. Trolling Craigslist alerted her to a number of opportunities to share an apartment or a room in a house off-campus. She couldn't afford any of them, and wasn't about to ask her parents for the money. Not when they were paying for perfectly good housing on campus—and doing so at some expense.

No, she was stuck with Ginny.

Which wasn't true. She had told Mrs. Sprout the truth. She liked Ginny. She enjoyed spending time with her, talking to her. If Ginny didn't monopolize the room with sex, Hermione would have had no complaints. But she did.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see a blank message board when she got back to the room Friday night after an evening in the library. She unlocked and opened the door, half expecting to find Ginny in bed with someone. The room was dark and empty. Grateful for small favors, Hermione closed the door and flipped on the light.

It had been a long week, and a longer day. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Ginny's absence was a godsend.

She threw her backpack onto her desk chair and made use of the bathroom they shared with the room next door. After washing her hands, she brushed her teeth, stripped down to panties and changed into the oversized t-shirt she wore to sleep in. She wondered briefly where Ginny was, then decided that she must have found someone with a room of his own. She snuggled down into the covers and fell asleep.

She woke to the sound of a door slamming shut. Giggles and whispered conversation followed. Hermione sighed. Ginny was back, with another playmate.

Hermione's eyes had adapted to the dark while she slept. The light that leaked around the blinds in the windows was more than enough for her to see Ginny and a lover standing by the door engaged in a deep kiss. They broke the kiss and stumbled toward Ginny's bed. It was clear that they couldn't see in the dark. Ginny groped her way carefully, pulling the young man along by the hand.

Ginny's leg brushed the edge of her bed. She turned, pulled the boy into her arms again, and kissed him again. An open-mouthed, tongue-tangling kiss. Her hands fumbled at the buttons on his shirt while he clasped Ginny's ass with both hands.

They don't know I'm here, Hermione thought. They couldn't see in the dark. They thought they were alone. She really ought to say something—let them know she was there. Before, well, before they did something embarrassing.

It was too late. Hermione was already embarrassed by witnessing their passionate kiss. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Then Ginny had the boy's shirt open. He let her push it off his shoulders and down over his arms.

"Strip," Ginny commanded, and he obeyed. He toed off his shoes, then peeled his jeans and underwear off. Ginny stripped with equal speed. In moments they were naked.

Hermione gawked, her face hot, knowing she shouldn't look but unable to tear her gaze away. She'd seen Ginny naked many times—Ginny slept naked, naturally. Ginny's partner—boyfriend? lover?—was another matter.

A head taller than Ginny, he was lean and muscular, with dark hair on his head and between his legs. His cock...was huge, bigger than any Hermione had ever seen. Which, admittedly, was a sample of one. It was long, and thick and it was hard. It pointed up at Ginny's navel.

As Hermione watched, Ginny ran a hand down his torso to clasp that monster. He groaned and threw his head back. Ginny stroked the length of it several times. Her teeth flashed as she grinned.

"Wanna fuck?"

"Fuck, yes," he replied.

Hermione couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was shocking, embarrassing, and exciting beyond words. Ginny carefully sat on the bed, then stretched out, never releasing her hold on the boy's cock. He leaned down, groping for the bed until he found it, then crawled onto it.

Ginny settled on her back, moving one leg so that her lover was kneeling between them. He walked his hands up on either side of her until he was supporting himself on his hands and knees above her. Hermione held her breath, waiting and watching. Her nipples were hard, sensitive enough to respond to the feel of her nightshirt rubbing against them as she turned—oh so quietly—onto her side. She ignored her flaming face and peered intently at Ginny and her lover.

She watched Ginny guide his cock between her legs. They paused for a moment, then he pushed his hips forward. Ginny groaned. "Oh Jesus," she muttered.

"Oh fuck," he replied.

They lay motionless for a moment before he drew his hips back, then pushed them forward again. Ginny moaned. Her hands caressed his sides, then slid down to cup his ass. "Oh yeah," she crooned. "That's what I want. Fuck me, Harry. Fuck me good."

Harry fucked her. Hermione watched avidly, arousal overwhelming her embarrassment. Her experience of sex was nothing like this! It had been a brief, uncomfortable encounter. She'd lain motionless, passively accepting her boyfriend's frantic thrusts, which had ended in a mercifully brief time. He'd gotten hard again and fucked her a second time, but hadn't lasted much longer.

Ginny was anything but passive. She clung to her lover—Harry—and moved against him. She planted her feet and rocked her hips, matching him thrust for thrust. All the while she made sounds of pleasure, moans and groans and whispered words of encouragement and excitement. Above her, Harry moved tirelessly, supporting his weight on his hand and knees.

It excited Hermione like nothing ever had. Like her only experience of actual sex never had. She slipped a hand down between her legs, rested it there, on her thigh, as if she didn't want to touch herself. As if she were fooling anyone.

She watched Ginny rock and writhe and caress every inch of her lover's skin she could reach. Hermione's fingers slid up her thigh, up under the hem of her t-shirt and inside her panties like they had a mind of their own. She liked that thought. Liked the thought of surrendering responsibility for her wayward fingers.

Across the small room, Ginny was breathing heavily, her whispered words fewer and farther between now. Harry was breathing hard too. Hermione would have panted with excitement too but she was terrified that they'd hear her. Her fingers brushed her pubic hair, a delicate touch that made her shiver. She slid her fingertips through her bush. She was open and wet. Her fingertips glided across the slick flesh, sending a thrill through her body.

"Ohhh god," Ginny moaned. She wrapped her arms around Harry's torso, pulling him close. She captured his mouth with hers, thrusting her hips upward with increasing speed. Harry matched her pace, his ass bobbing between Ginny's knees.

Hermione turned on her side, hand trapped between her thighs. She didn't want to miss this.

Ginny broke the kiss, gasped for air—and shuddered. She arched her back, throwing her head back, wailing. She convulsed, legs flailing. Harry wrapped his arms around her and held on, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Ginny ran out of breath. For a moment the only sound in the room was Harry's breathing.

Then Ginny drew a loud, ragged breath. "Oh god, Harry," she cried. "That was so good."

"Glad you liked it." Harry's voice was muffled. He lifted his head. "I aim to please."

Ginny moaned. "And you do." They kissed again, passionately.

Hermione raised one knee, giving herself room to slip a finger inside herself. It felt so good. Moving it back and forth felt even better. She concentrated on breathing slowly and quietly as she fingered herself.

"What can I do for you?" Ginny asked Harry.

Hermione missed what Harry said. She'd discovered that pressing her palm against her Mons while she worked a finger in and out added to her pleasure. It added a lot. Abrupt motion on the other bed caught her attention.

Ginny and Harry changed positions. Harry settled on his back. Ginny crouched between Harry's legs, leaned forward—and wrapped a hand around Harry's cock. Hermione gaped as Ginny leaned forward with an eager grin, mouth open, to lick the tip like an ice cream cone. Harry gasped.

Ginny grinned even wider, then took the tip of it into her mouth. Hermione had never imagined doing anything like that. It looked too big, for one thing. But Ginny wasn't having any trouble with it. She lowered her head, swallowing more of it. Hermione watched, torn between fascination and alarm.

Would guys expect her to do something like that? Could she? Hermione closed her eyes, conjuring the image of Ginny and Harry fucking. That was a lot more exciting. She resumed fingering herself as she remembered the sights and sounds. Harry's hard muscled arms flexing, his equally attractive ass thrusting. She couldn't see it, but now she imagined how his cock looked, driving into Ginny's pussy.

Hermione's free hand caressed her thigh. It slid up beneath her t-shirt to stroke her belly or even cup a breast. Her other hand, buried between her thighs, didn't move—save for two fingers now, thrusting in unison. She was terribly excited, more so than she could remember being before. She'd masturbated, of course. But it had always been a quick, guilty affair; workmanlike effort resulting in a quick, mechanical release.

It was nothing like this. She felt a pressure building inside her, a tension she'd never experienced before, pleasant but incomplete. Hermione thrust her fingers faster and harder, careful to breathe silently despite the building tension. She fingered herself faster, wanting to reach the climax she felt approaching.

Harry interrupted her thoughts with a sudden plea. "Don't stop. Don't stop... don't—"

Hermione turned her head. Harry writhed on the opposite bed, arms and legs flexing and straightening. His hands fluttered in the air before settling on Ginny's head as it bobbed over his crotch. Hermione watched, fascinated, her fingers continuing to piston in and out of her pussy.

Harry went rigid, head thrown back. His hips twitched rhythmically. He groaned, a deep, loud noise that went on and on. Ginny rode him through his orgasm, her mouth never leaving his cock. He was coming inside her mouth! And she swallowed it.

Hermione watched and fingered herself frantically. Her fingers, along with the sight of Harry coming, sent her over the edge. The pleasurable tension rose to unbearable heights—then broke over her like a wave. Hermione held herself rigid, motionless save for her pussy contracting repeatedly around her fingers; every contraction sent a pulse of pleasure rolling through her body.

She never forgot that Ginny and Harry were only a few feet away, or the necessity of remaining still and silent. But she lost all awareness of what they were doing as her own ecstasy demanded all her attention. When her peak had passed and the pleasure was only a pleasant memory, Hermione belatedly noticed the whispered conversation going on in the next bed—and that she had closed her eyes during her orgasm.

"Holy shit! Is that your roommate?" Harry's whisper cut through the silence.

Hermione kept her eyes closed and concentrated on keeping her face blank, her breathing even. Her face grew hot and she hoped her crimson blush wasn't visible in the dark.

"Yeah."

"Is she...asleep?"

"I think so."

"I didn't know—"

"Neither did I, silly." Ginny giggled. "It was dark."

"Are you sure she's asleep?"

"What, you want an audience?"

"No, but—"

"She's asleep," Ginny said with surprising confidence. "Watch. Hermione? Hermione, are you awake?"

Hermione felt her blush deepen and spread. She didn't know what Ginny was doing. Did she want Hermione to respond? Did she suspect Hermione had watched them? Uncertain of Ginny's intent, and fearful of doing the wrong thing, Hermione did nothing. She continued to feign sleep.

"See? She's asleep. She'd sleep through a fire alarm."

"Good."


	6. Chapter 6

Ginny and Harry made love several more times that night. Hermione watched through slitted eyes, remaining as still as possible. Now that they knew she was present, Ginny and Harry each glanced her way at times. She played dead—or at least deeply unconscious—each time. Much as she wanted to masturbate again, she didn't. She'd never get away with it now that they were conscious of her presence.

And she badly wanted to masturbate. She'd never even seen a porn video before, much less witnessed sex with her own eyes. It was arousing beyond imagining. And there were so many possibilities she'd never even considered. Ginny and Harry's first coupling was in the missionary position. It was the only position Hermione had ever experienced, and at that Ginny had enjoyed it more than she ever had.

But that was only the beginning. She'd watched Ginny use her mouth on Harry's cock. She watched Harry return the favor. She saw Ginny kneel astride Harry while he lay on his back, rocking her hips. She watched Ginny on her hands and knees with Harry kneeling between her spread legs, entering her from behind. They'd even used their mouths on one another at the same time, lying on their sides.

Hearing Ginny's cries of pleasure was educational. She'd never thought a woman could have as much fun as Ginny had, or enjoy so many orgasms. Harry was a very talented young man. Much more talented than Cormac had been. Hermione realized at four a.m., when she was briefly awakened by the now-familiar slapping of flesh on flesh, and the incredibly arousing moans and whimpers Ginny made, that she was jealous of her roommate.

Hermione woke again just after dawn. Light filtered around the edges of the curtains. She'd turned over in her sleep, lying sprawled face down, her head turned away from Ginny's side of the room. What had awakened her? She listened, expecting to hear more sex happening. She heard whispered voices—but from the door.

She turned her head. Ginny's bed was empty. More whispering. The door opened and closed. Hermione heard the deadbolt click. She lowered her head and feigned sleep once more. She listened to Ginny climb back into bed and settle the covers. Ginny said, "Good night, Hermione."

Hermione froze. Did she know? Or was she guessing? Safer to assume the latter. Hermione remained silent, pretending once more to sleep. She heard Ginny shift position, fiddle with her pillow, then settle down again with a faint sigh. Very shortly her soft, regular breaths suggested that she was asleep again. All too aware of her own pretenses, Hermione didn't assume that was the case. She continued to lie still, pretending sleep until it became a pretense no longer.

When she woke next, Hermione heard the shower running. A quick look showed Ginny's bed abandoned. Her alarm clock read 10:34 a.m. It was Saturday, a day when Hermione liked to sleep in. But not today. The last thing she wanted to face was discussing what had happened with Ginny.

It would have to happen sometime. But not this morning. She threw off her own bed clothes and rolled to her feet. She dressed as fast as she could manage. She heard the shower shut off as she was jamming textbooks into her backpack. She abandoned the last one, threw the half open backpack over one shoulder and fled the room.

The bathroom door opened as she pulled the hallway door closed. She had the hall to herself. She bolted for the stairwell, heart racing. Ginny called after her—or Hermione thought she did. She ignored the sound and clattered down the echoing stairwell and out into the bright cold morning.


	7. Chapter 7

"I thought I'd find you here."

Ginny's voice set Hermione's heart racing. Embarrassment, guilt and relief at an end to the waiting swept through her. She looked up from her Doc Savage paperback. Ginny held a breakfast tray in her hands. She looked normal rather than angry. Around them the Commons swarmed with students getting a late breakfast or an early lunch. Hermione had a table to herself.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Sure," Hermione said.

Ginny took a seat across from Hermione. "Haven't seen you all weekend, roomie."

"I've been busy." Hiding from you. Avoiding this conversation. Fortunately Ginny had apparently stayed in Harry's room Saturday night.

"So I gathered." Ginny picked up her silverware, then frowned. Lowered it. "Are we going to talk about this, or what?"

Hermione's face felt hot. She knew she had to be blushing visibly, and that knowledge only made it worse. She stared at Ginny, unable to think what to say. Ginny seemed equally lost.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison.

"What?" they chorused. Both of them drew breath to speak. Hermione waited.

"I'm sorry about the other night," Ginny said. "We didn't know you were there."

"I know." Ginny colored a little, which made Hermione feel a little better. At least until she realized that was because she didn't think Ginny could be embarrassed. That was an uncharitable thought. Ginny had been nothing but kind.

"I told Harry you were asleep," Ginny said. "I even called your name."

Hermione stood mute.

"You were awake, weren't you?"

Hermione looked away. Her cheeks felt hot enough to catch fire. The room felt warm, and it was never warm. She let her gaze slide sideways. Ginny watched her closely. Her face lit in a big grin. "You were awake!" Ginny said. "I knew it!"

"I couldn't help it!" Only as the words left her mouth did Hermione realize she'd confirmed Ginny's suspicions. She clamped her hands over her face, wishing she could vanish.

"It turned me on."

Hermione wasn't sure she'd heard Ginny right. She lowered her hands. Ginny sat with both elbows on the table, leaning forward. She lowered her voice. "I was surprised at first, and afraid you'd be upset. But when you didn't say or do anything, I thought maybe you were watching us. Were you?"

Hermione looked away again, wanting to deny it. Truthfully, she wanted this whole conversation never to have happened. She didn't want to answer. She didn't want to lie, either. Remaining silent seemed like a good compromise. It was a compromise she made a lot. All the time, in fact.

She met Ginny's eyes. It took her a full minute to work up the courage to reply. A minute in which she was painfully aware of the heat in face, of the way her pulse throbbed in her temples and fingertips in time to the rapid beating of her heart. Butterflies writhed in her stomach.

"Yes," Hermione said. It was damned difficult to push the words out. "I watched you."

Ginny smiled. "I thought so. Thanks for telling me."

Hermione wanted to say, "You're welcome," but the words wouldn't come.

"I know that was hard to say. We haven't been friends for that long, but I know you're a very private person. Thanks for telling me the truth."

Hermione dropped her gaze even as she nodded.

"So can I tell you something?"

Hermione looked up. "S-sure."

"I liked it when you watched us. Or when I thought you were watching us."

"You did?"

Ginny nodded eagerly. "It turned me on. A lot."

Hermione didn't know how to answer that. She didn't have to. Ginny wasn't finished confessing.

"Not because it was you. Just—being watched. By anyone. When I was having sex." Ginny's eyes shone. "I liked it a lot. I guess...I guess I have some exhibitionist tendencies."

Well, I could have told you that, Hermione thought. She recalled the whiteboard on their door. The one covered by crossed out times, each a bread crumb leading anyone paying attention to the knowledge of just how often Ginny had sex.

She imagined telling Ginny that. "Really?" Ginny would ask.

"Yes," Hermione could say. "It's pretty obvious you want everyone to know."

Ginny would blush a little, her eyes darting here and there as she considered the idea. Then a little grin would spread across her face. "I guess you're right," she'd say.

Hermione said nothing. It was too personal, too intimate.

"Are we okay, then?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded. "We're fine."

Ginny smiled. Hermione recognized the teasing aspect of it. "I'll try not to do it again," she said. She paused to watch Hermione closely. "Unless you want me to."

Ginny!" Despite her protest, Hermione felt a thrill sweep through her at the thought. Watching Ginny and Harry fuck, fingering herself while she did, was the most exciting sexual experience she'd ever had. For all the embarrassment she'd experienced since, all the effort spent to avoid this conversation, she'd recalled it often. And with great pleasure.

"That's not a no."

"No, it isn't."

The words came unbidden. Hermione couldn't believe she'd said them. Judging by Ginny's expression, she couldn't either. "I see. Did you like it too?"

The heat rushed into her face again. It was getting to be a too-familiar sensation around Ginny. Nonetheless, Hermione held Ginny's gaze as long as it took her to muster the courage to nod. The moment she did her courage deserted her. She dropped her eyes.

"Wow," Ginny said. "We're quite a pair."

She said nothing more, content to eat her breakfast in silence. Hermione went back to her book. When she looked up again some time later, Ginny was gazing into the distance, lost in her thoughts. Then she blinked and focused on Hermione. "I've got some studying to do," she said. She stood and picked up her tray. "Catch you later, roomie."


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione woke to the sound of keys in the door. The time glowed from her alarm clock: 2:14 a.m. Light from the hallway spilled into the room when the door swung open. "Come on in," she heard Ginny say.

Hermione's heart thudded heavily as she realized what Ginny was doing. It had been a week since their conversation in the cafeteria. If Ginny had had any assignations—and Hermione had no doubt about that—she'd had them elsewhere. But she'd given Hermione fair warning, standing by the door in a pair of painted-on jeans and a low-cut red top, "I'm planning to bring someone back to the room tonight. You know. Just FYI."

And then she was out the door.

Hermione had studied for a while, then attended a basketball game in the arena. When she'd returned, the room was dark—and empty. She'd considered going out again. But she was tired and Ginny might not be back for hours yet. Besides, it was her room too—and if she were honest with herself, the thought of spying on Ginny and a lover was intensely exciting. So much so that she'd lain awake for what seemed hours, replaying the memory of Ginny and Harry fucking just a few feet away. But eventually she'd slept.

Now she was awake again. She lowered her head, shifting to lie on her side facing Ginny's side of the room. The room darkened. Hermione heard Ginny lock the door. The faint smack of kisses filled the silence. Hermione swallowed heavily, aroused and alarmed by what Ginny was doing.

By what they were both doing.

Last time it had been an accident. Tonight Hermione was complicit. She knew why Ginny had brought a boy to the room. She wanted to be seen having sex. And Hermione, god forgive her, wanted to watch. Just the thought of what she was about to witness excited her. She forced herself to breath slowly and quietly, to keep her eyes closed.

She tracked Hermione's progress with her ears. She heard Hermione and her lover kiss again. Heard a male voice ask, "How about some light? I like to see who I'm doing." He spoke in a normal tone of voice.

"Sorry," Ginny said. She spoke quietly. "My roommate's asleep."

"What?"

"Don't worry. She's practically deaf, but if we turn on a light she'll wake up."

"I don't know about this." He sounded uncertain but Hermione had no doubt Ginny could convince him.

They were silent. Hermione risked a peek at them. Ginny was on her toes, arms around him as she kissed him again, very thoroughly. "Where else are we gonna go?" she asked when they came up for air. "We can't use your room—and she'll sleep through it."

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes. I'm sure I want you." Her lover gasped in surprise, then made a faint sound of pleasure. Hermione was pretty sure Ginny was stroking the front of his jean. "And I'm pretty sure you want me too."

The two of them crept toward Ginny's bed. Hermione closed her eyes again, feigning sleep. She kept her eyes closed through the sound of zippers, of fabric sliding against skin, and the clink of a belt buckle hitting the floor. Ginny's bed creaked.

Hermione dared a quick glimpse. The boy sat on the edge of the bed, with Ginny kneeling in front of him. He groaned softly. "Oh god, Ginny...." He leaned back on his elbow, head lolling, eyes closed and mouth slack. "Oh fuck."

Ginny's head bobbed slowly as she blew him. Hermione wished she had a better point of view. It wasn't nearly as exciting as seeing her give Harry oral sex. Not that it wasn't still thrilling. But she looked forward to seeing them fuck, to hearing the sounds of pleasure they made, and watching them come.

Hermione glanced at the boy's face frequently, checking that his eyes were still closed. He probably couldn't see her even if they weren't, but his vision would adapt to the dark eventually. But for now, she watched openly. She felt deliciously naughty and the feeling only heightened her arousal. Her skin felt too tight, sensitized beyond endurance. Heat gathered between her legs, drawing her fingertips.

She slipped a hand into her panties. She was wet, her labia swelling and parting, more aroused now than she'd ever been when having sex. The thought shocked her. Perhaps guilt and shame and inexperience weren't all there was to it; maybe Cormac wasn't much of a lover. Maybe he'd been as inexperienced, guilty and furtive as she herself.

Ginny was none of those things. She was confident, sexy, gorgeous. She straightened up, the blow job at an end. Hermione closed her eyes and forced herself to relax into the pillow again. She heard Ginny's bed creak again, and the mingled sighs of Ginny and her lover.

Hermione peeped through slitted lids. Ginny knelt on the bed now, clasping her lover close as she sat on his lap. She rose slightly, then lowered herself with a groan of pleasure. Then again, a little higher this time, before—before impaling herself on her lover's cock. She was fucking him!

Hermione had never even considered such a thing. She thought she'd seen Ginny exhaust all the possibilities with Harry. Not so! She rode her new lover faster now, rising and falling like a rider on a horse. But no horseback ride ever gave anyone such pleasure.

Ginny's building excitement revealed itself in the way she groaned and panted. She grew louder, the sounds coming faster. Hermione watched avidly, her hand between her legs now, stroking herself in time with Ginny's movements, aware of Ginny reaching a crescendo, excited by the knowledge and slightly embarrassed that she knew what to expect.

Ginny bounced rapidly on her lover's cock, with such speed and force that it looked uncomfortable and fraught with Seamusger. Twice she rose high enough that his cock came free. Each time, Ginny grabbed it firmly and impaled herself again. She regained her rhythm, riding harder and faster, groaning and panting until she stopped abruptly. Ginny shuddered, her hands clasping her lover's face, shoulders hunched and head bowed. Her ragged groan of pleasure filled the silence.

She drew a shaky breath and laughed softly. "Oh my god," Ginny murmured.

"Liked that, did you?"

"It was lovely." Ginny's voice was muffled. She lay with her face pressed against his chest.

I sure did, Hermione thought. She'd stopped masturbating when Ginny reached her climax, still well short of her own, frustrated—but afraid to draw attention to herself even under her covers. Surely they'd see or hear something now that they were no longer concentrating on one another.

Without another word, Ginny's lover wrapped his arms around her, one hand spread to support her ass. In a surprising—and arousing—show of strength, he stood, turned, and then lowered Ginny onto her back on the bed. All without letting his cock slip out of her. Hermione marveled, realizing that she'd underestimated them, and briefly imagined what it would feel like to be in Ginny's place.

He began to fuck Ginny hard and fast. "Oh Jesus Seamus," Ginny cried. "Yes!"

They coupled furiously, Seamus driving his cock into Ginny's pussy with deep, rapid thrusts. Ginny raised and spread her legs, eager for more. She continued to cup his face in her hands, gazing into his eyes. Hermione could see the glimmer of sweat on his face even in the dark, evidence of just how hard he was working.

Hermione picked up where she'd left off, fingertips gliding across the swollen, slippery lips of her pussy before easing inside. She fucked herself slowly, one thrust for every three of Seamus's while her thumb teased at her clit. It was all too much. The sight of Ginny and Seamus fucking only a few feet away, the liquid squelch and the slap of flesh against flesh, the smell of sex—and god, when had she learned to recognize that?—and the slippery friction of her fingers within and her thumb on her clit excited her more than she could say.

Ginny cried out, trembling all over, as she came again, adding to Hermione's excitement. Ginny thrashed, impaled on Seamus's cock, all control of her body lost in those moments of absolute ecstasy. An instant later Seamus drove himself into Ginny in a final, convulsive thrust. He went still, arms stiff, body arched and head thrown back, mouth open in a long, low groan of wordless bliss. It was by far the sexiest sight Hermione had ever witnessed: a handsome young man in the throes of orgasm, helpless and vulnerable.

The sight of Seamus experiencing such pleasure while nearly close enough to touch drove Hermione over the edge. A final caress of her clit sent a firestorm of pleasure roaring through her body, burning away her control of her body. She quivered beneath her bedding, unable to remain still despite the risk of discovery. She retained the presence of mind to bite her pillow, stifling the wail of pleasure that rose from her breast, though not the ragged breaths she could not control.

The room fell silent then, save for heavy breathing from the three of them. Hermione lay motionless, eyes closed, enjoying the aftermath of a phenomenal orgasm—and feigning sleep. She did her best to breathe deeply and silently. She wasn't entirely successful, but she felt confident that Seamus couldn't hear her over his own gasping breaths, or Ginny's.

Utterly relaxed and content, Hermione opened her eyes—and found herself staring into Seamus's.

His eyes mirrored the jolt of shock Hermione felt, growing so wide that even in the dark Hermione could see the whites of his eyes all around his irises. He flung himself up into a sitting position, staring at Hermione. "What the fuck is this? She's awake!" Seamus's voice was rough, like he wanted to shout but was trying to keep the noise down. "She was watching us!"

Hermione's good mood evaporated, washed away in the flood of adrenaline that chilled her—all except her face, which burned with acute embarrassment. In her imagination, she'd been discovered watching Ginny and Seamus, but in her imagination it had been exciting and arousing. It had led to all sorts of possibilities, each one more deliciously naughty than the last. But the reality was nothing like that.

She felt no excitement now, no arousal. Just humiliation. She'd been caught watching furtively, spying on them as they made love with no knowledge—on Seamus's part, at least—that she was awake and peeping. She lay there unmoving despite the way she longed to throw the covers over her head, or flee the room. Anything to escape Seamus's gaze.

Seamus.

Seamus, who continued to stare, though his gaze went from wide-eyed to narrow as his face darkened. Anger had supplanted shock and surprise. Seamus, sitting naked little more than an arm's length away, his deflating cock completely exposed to her. Hermione glanced at it, unable to resist. Even now it was impressive, larger than Cormac's at its biggest.

He noticed, and tried to casually flip a sheet over his lap but it was wadded at the foot of the bed with the comforter. He finally succeeded in covering his nakedness, but it wasn't at all smoothly done.

"Seamus." Ginny's voice caught Hermione's attention. From her tone, it wasn't the first time she'd spoken. While Hermione had stared at Seamus, Ginny had assumed a casual pose, propped on one elbow, utterly at home in her bare skin.

Seamus started and glanced at her. Apparently he hadn't heard her either. "What?"

"It's okay," Ginny said.

"What?"

"It's okay."

Seamus shook his head. "What are you talking about? She was watching us!"

Ginny shrugged. "We woke her up."

"You said we wouldn't."

"I was wrong." She looked down for a moment, smiling. "We did get kinda loud."

Seamus looked at Hermione for a moment, then back at Ginny. Anger still clouded his expression but now uncertainty diluted it. "But—she was watching us."

Now Ginny met Hermione's gaze, silently sharing their secret. She looked at Seamus again. "Wouldn't you?"

"No!"

Ginny cocked her head, conveying skepticism with a look. "No? If you woke up and found your roommate fucking some very hot woman? You wouldn't watch?"

Hermione watched Seamus's eyes dart back and forth between them. "I—no, I wouldn't."

"Liar," Ginny said.

Hermione caught her breath, shocked by Ginny's blunt language. It wasn't totally unexpected, she'd lived with Ginny long enough by now to know that she didn't believe in mincing words. But it was something Hermione could never have said, even if it were true.

Seamus met Ginny's gaze, a little taken aback himself, to judge by his expression. But then he smiled wryly, his eyes flitting between Ginny and Hermione like he was watching a ping pong game. "Maybe," he said.

Ginny didn't hesitate to press her advantage. "Maybe what? Maybe you're lying? Or maybe you'd watch your roommate fucking a hot chick?"

"Maybe I would," he said, his gaze settling on Hermione. "But that doesn't mean I should."

Hermione looked away, unable to meet his eyes, her face warming again. He was right. As tempting as it was to watch Ginny and Seamus together, she knew it wasn't right. She was just too weak to resist.

"Maybe not," Ginny said. "But can you at least understand the temptation?"

He didn't answer immediately. In fact the silence stretched out long enough that Hermione looked up to find Seamus watching her, and Ginny watching Seamus. "Yeah," Seamus said at last. "I guess I can."

"Good," Ginny said. "Then you won't mind if she watches us again."

Seamus turned his head to look at Ginny. "Again?"

Ginny grinned at him. "You don't think we're done, do you? I'm planning to fuck you a couple more times tonight. You're not a one-and-done kind of guy, are you? I hope not. That would be very disappointing."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah?" Ginny asked, and Hermione could hear the challenge in her voice. Ginny leaned in to reach beneath the sheet covering Seamus's lap. "Let's just see."

"Ginny!" Seamus yelped and clamped a large hand on Ginny's wrist.

"What?" she demanded. She didn't continue groping, but she didn't withdraw her hand either. Seamus tugged at the sheet with his free hand, obtaining a little more coverage.

Seamus shook his head, unwilling or unable to say more. Hermione knew the feeling. She liked Ginny, but she could be pretty single-minded at times. She'd wrung a confession about voyeurism from Seamus, and now she was pressing for some exhibitionism too. If Hermione had had any doubt about Ginny's exhibitionist tendencies, this would have dispelled them.

"Ginny, stop."

All the humor had leached from Seamus's voice. He wasn't looking at either of them now, and for once it wasn't only Hermione blushing.

"Stop it," Hermione said to her, surprising herself with the sharpness of her tone. "You're embarrassing him."

"He's not embarrassed."

"He is! And so am I!"

Ginny glanced over at Hermione, her smile losing a little wattage, though she continued pulling at the sheet Seamus was grimly holding in place. "Hermione—"

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted, shocking herself with both the volume and the anger behind it. "Just stop!" She wanted desperately to escape the situation, for her own sake as much as Seamus's.

She flung away her bed covers and leaped out of bed, all too aware that Seamus could see her in nothing more than panties and a tee shirt, to snatch up the jeans folded on the chair by her desk. Loose coins spilled from a pocket, bouncing and rolling across her desk, the floor, everywhere. Anger washed over her, hot and uncontrolled.

Hermione struggled to get into her jeans, fumbling with them in her haste, stepping on one pant leg and nearly falling over. "Shit!" The curse bubbled up out of the same unexpected well of anger as she had her hands shaking and her breath coming in rapid, ragged gulps. She finally got the jeans on.

"Hermione," Ginny called, but Hermione stormed out of the room, crouching once as she went to snatch up a pair of sneakers. She hated wearing shoes without socks, but she wasn't about to waste another second to grab some.

"Hermione, wait!"

Hermione pulled the door open and blinked as the bright lights in the hallways dazzled her dark-adapted eyes. Pavarti, Lavender and Luna stood in the hallway, staring at the door—and at her. A couple of door were open, other girls peeking out.

How loud were we?

Hermione stood in the doorway, torn by indecision. Close the door and avoid their curious gazes? Or escape the humiliating scene behind her?

She stepped out, drawing the door closed behind her, cutting off whatever Ginny was saying. She swallowed hard, her face burning, hands shaking, doing her best not to notice the curious looks her neighbors gave her. She walked quickly down the hallway to the central atrium and the stairs leading down and out. At the foot of the stairs, she noticed that the foyer was occupied. A couple were sitting in the conversation pit on the far side of the room, snuggled up and speaking quietly. Two girls she recognized as residents of other floors were each sitting in front of a laptop, net-surfing or watching a movie.

Hermione dropped onto the corner of the huge sectional sofa that dominated this side of the foyer. She yanked on her sneakers, grimacing at the feel of them on her bare feet. She hated that. But there was nothing for it except to suck it up.

She glanced through the foyer doors at the night. It looked cold out there. But she couldn't stay here. She bombed through the doors before she could rethink her decision.

She was right. It was cold out here. A breeze rattled the few remaining leaves on the trees for a moment, then died away. She hugged herself and strode down the walk without a destination in mind. Where could she go?

It had to be after three a.m. by now. All the restaurants and shops within walking distance would be closed. Even the bars were closed by now. And really, how could she go out anywhere anyhow? All she wore above the waist was a threadbare t-shirt she'd worn to sleep in. She could practically see through it, and even if not her nipples were visible a block away.

Hermione slowed to halt. She looked around at the campus. There were light on in a fair number of dorm rooms, but most of them were dark. Even the night-owls started to fade at this time of night. She was alone out here. Everyone with sense was indoors. The breeze kicked up again, ruffling her hair and cutting through her thin t-shirt and even her jeans.

Don't be stupid, Hermione told herself. It would be stupid to stay out here and catch cold just because she was angry. And embarrassed. Humiliated. And not just at Ginny. She was complicit. She wanted to blame it all on Ginny, but that wasn't true.

She'd wanted to watch them. She'd let her own lust overrule her sense of right and wrong. She'd known it was wrong to spy on Ginny and her lover. Even if Ginny was okay with it. Seamus wasn't okay with it, and they hadn't given him a choice. They'd used Seamus. They'd embarrassed and humiliated him.

Hermione turned back toward the dorm. She hunched her shoulders, rubbing her bare arms with her hands. It didn't help much. She was glad to reach the door—until she tugged at it and it remained stubbornly closed.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered. It was the middle of the night. Of course the doors were locked. And her card key was tucked into her wallet, sitting on the desk by her phone. It was one thing too many. She grabbed the door handle with both hands and shook it with all her strength, rattling it in the frame.

When that didn't get any attention, she pounded on the glass with her fists. "Hey! You!" She yelled at the dark haired girl watching a movie on her laptop. "Let me in!"

The girl looked up in surprise, then put her laptop aside. She walked over to open the door, giving Hermione a once-over as she did, a smirk on her face. "Forget something?"

Hermione scowled, but gave her a grudging thanks all the same. The girl shrugged and turned away, showing just how little she cared about Hermione's annoyance or her thanks. She flopped into her chair, picked up her laptop and resumed her movie. A glance around the room revealed that she was the only other person there.

The couple who'd occupied the conversation pit were gone. So was the girl who'd been net-surfing. Hermione stepped down into the conversation pit. She looked around, assessing it. It was round, the sunken sofa encircling a brick fire place that she'd not yet seen in use. A metal chimney hung from the ceiling, wide and high enough that people on opposite sides of the pit couldn't see one another easily.

The sofa cushions were thick and comfortable, covered with fabric instead of vinyl or leather, so they weren't cold. It was designed for sitting, so the seats weren't terribly deep, but she was small. She stretched out on her side and found it fairly comfortably. She wished for a blanket, but there was none to be had. She grabbed one of the nearby cushions and hugged it to her breast. It was no substitute for a blanket, but it helped. A little.

Maybe she could sleep here for a couple of hours.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione jerked awake at the sound of her name. Only then did she realize she'd slept. She still clutched the sofa cushion. She felt exhausted, her eyes scratchy from insufficient sleep. Her hair was mussed, and she felt stiff from sleeping on the sofa, which wasn't as comfortable as she'd first thought.

She looked around. Early morning sunlight filled the foyer. The only other person in the room was Ginny, who stood outside the pit, towering over her from that position. It was Ginny who'd called her name. Hermione turned away, slumping onto the sofa again and closing her eyes, wishing she could drift off to sleep again. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation with Ginny. "Go away, Ginny.

"Come back to the room, Hermione," Ginny said. "Please."

Hermione's shoulders rose as anxiety filled her, knotting her stomach. She really didn't want this confrontation right now. She kept her eyes closed though she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep. "Go away, Ginny," she said again.

"I am," Ginny said. "You can have the room. I won't be back until—later."

Hermione opened one eye. She had to twist her neck to see Ginny above her. She was dressed to go out, wearing a hoodie and carrying her backpack. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You don't have to stay out here."

Hermione shifted awkwardly onto her back so she could see Ginny more easily. "Seamus's gone?"

Ginny nodded. "He left right after you did."

Hermione hadn't expected that. "He did?" She hadn't seen him, but he might have gone out another door or she might just have missed him in the dark—and in her funk.

Ginny nodded again.

"Gonna see him again?" The question answered itself, really. Of course she was.

Ginny shook her head, remaining silent.

"No?"

"No." Ginny's voice caught on the word. Hermione looked closer. Ginny's eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was red as well. She'd been crying. Probably 'cause she didn't get fucked all night like she'd planned, Hermione thought.

The cruelty in that thought shocked Hermione. How could she think such a thing? What did it say about her that she could think something so uncharitable about her friend?

As if she could hear Hermione's thoughts, Ginny's hand leaped up to cover her mouth, just too late to stifle a sob. She closed her eyes, but only succeeded in squeezing out tears. She turned away to walk toward the door. Hermione gaped, shocked and ashamed. It took a moment to find her voice. "Ginny, wait!"

Ginny didn't hear or ignored her. She dropped the hand covering her mouth, sniffed once loudly, and squared her shoulders. She paused at the door to wipe her eyes.

Hermione flung the cushion aside and scrambled to her feet. She stood on the sofa and jumped up to the floor. She lunged and caught Ginny's shoulder as she reached for the door. Her touch surprised Ginny. She flinched and her head whipped around to stare at Hermione.

She looked miserable. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, and tear tracks were visible on her cheeks. Her nose was red, and she sniffled frequently. She looked alarmed, as if she expected Hermione to lash out at her.

Hermione felt the desire to do it. She wanted to yell at Ginny, and hurl accusations at her. But she couldn't. Everything that had happened last night was as much her fault as Ginny's. As much as she wanted to blame Ginny for it, she couldn't.

She wanted to say that. The words were on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn't. It was too raw, too close to truths she didn't want to acknowledge. She settled for tugging gently at Ginny's wrist and inclining her head toward the stairs. "C'mon," she whispered. "Let's go back."

Hermione led Ginny back to their room. Ginny was strangely compliant, going where Hermione led and doing what she was told without question. Without speaking at all. It was unsettling. Hermione felt sorry for Ginny, for her obvious pain, but angry too. She found herself falling into the caretaker role when she felt just as hurt.

She settled Ginny on the edge of her bed after hastily straightening it up. She boiled water in a small electric kettle her parents had given her for a going-away present, then made tea. All the while neither of them spoke. Ginny just sat, motionless save for her hands, which couldn't remain still. Hermione leaned against her desk, too wired and anxious to sit. When the tea was ready, she poured a cup and handed it to Ginny, then poured one for herself and sat down opposite her.

They sipped carefully at the hot liquid, still without speaking.

"Thank you." Ginny's voice was barely audible. She stared at her teacup.

"You're welcome," Hermione said.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, still focused on the teacup.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Me too."

Ginny looked up from her tea in surprise. "You?"

Hermione nodded. "We did this. Both of us." She let the words hang there between them, stifling the urge to say more. To pin the blame on Ginny, and absolve herself. It would be too easy to rewrite events in her mind to justify herself and demonize Ginny.

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head slowly, looking more distraught. "No, it was me."

"No," Hermione snapped, her anger making the word sharper, louder than she'd intended. She closed her eyes and took a breath, fighting down the anger. She opened them again to find Ginny watching her curiously.

"No," Hermione said again. "It wasn't just you. It was both of us. I knew—" Her throat tightened up, choking off the words. She forced them out. "I knew you were gonna bring a guy home. Probably bring a guy home. I knew you'd—you'd have sex with him."

She looked away, her face afire. It was probably bright red. Her stomach was in knots, doing slow rolls. Admitting to this, even when both of them knew the truth, was damnably hard. She forced herself to meet Ginny's eyes. "I knew you'd have sex with him and I wanted to watch."

"Hermione—"

Hermione shook her head, silencing Ginny. She had to get this out. "I knew, and I wanted to watch. If I hadn't been there watching, he never would have caught me. He wouldn't have been so angry and—and so embarrassed."

Now Ginny shook her head. "No, that wasn't your fault. It was me—I kept pushing. I always push. I do!"

You do, Hermione thought. But she didn't say it. It might be true, but it's not like she didn't have her own sins to contemplate. Plenty of them. She had no business pointing fingers at anyone.

"He called me a whore," Ginny said. She had settled back against Hermione's large stuffed cat she kept on her bed that Hermione had nicknamed Crookshanks. ("Why do you call it that?" Ginny had asked early on. Hermione had just shrugged.) She was cradling the nearly empty tea cup in both hands, staring down at it.

"He didn't."

Ginny looked up. "He did." She shrugged it off. "I didn't care about that, much. But he also called me a slut." Her eyes filled and she drew a ragged breath. "Am I, Hermione? Am I a slut?"

Hermione stared at Ginny, unable to formulate a response. Her mind whirled with possible responses—and with arguments pro and con. Was Ginny a slut? Before she'd met Ginny and roomed with her for the last two months, she'd have said yes. Without a question. Everything she'd been taught told her that pre-marital sex was a sin, and casual sex with multiple partners was even worse. Proper young women remained chaste until their wedding night. Only bad girls—sluts—slept around.

If Ginny was a slut, then so was she. Ginny wasn't doing anything Hermione wouldn't have liked to do. She would have been having sex years ago if she hadn't been so thoroughly cowed by her parents, by her church, by the whole culture of her small town. She'd long ago decided that the moral arguments against pre-marital sex made no sense to her. Had that been the only thing holding her back, she'd have been doing it since she was sixteen.

But it wasn't. Fear of eternal damnation hadn't restrained her. Fear of being caught at it had. Fear of being labeled as a "bad girl" or a "slut" by her parents, her peers, her church, and her community had. Fear of pregnancy had. Living in that small town had been like living in a fishbowl, and she'd never thought she could have sex without any or all of those awful consequences.

Ginny had been raised without, or had managed to escape, all those restraints. She wanted sex (and lots of it) and wasn't embarrassed in the least to say so, or to act on that desire. If that made her a slut, then yes. But it only meant that they both were.

"No," Hermione said, realizing that she'd remained silent for too long. "You're not a slut. Seamus was wrong to say that, or to say—the other thing. It's not true."

"Really?" Ginny's voice cracked and she looked on the verge of tears again.

"Really," Hermione said. "He was just pissed off, but that doesn't excuse calling you names. Especially when those names aren't true."

Ginny wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Sometimes I wonder," she said.

"You do?" Hermione had no idea that Ginny harbored any doubts about her behavior. She always seemed so self-assured. She said as much to Ginny.

Ginny's smile was low-wattage, but it was a smile all the same. She nodded. "Sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. I try not to let all that patriarchal bullshit get inside my head but it's hard, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." In truth, the whole notion of the patriarchy and its oppressive effects was new to her. Not the sort of thing she'd heard much about back home. She'd been getting quite an education since starting college, though it was probably not the education her parents were hoping for. "I've been steeping in it since I was born. I never even thought about it. It's just how things were. Good girls didn't. Not until they were married."

"But you did," Ginny said, her tone making a question of it.

Hermione nodded. "And I felt terribly guilty about it. And it was about as much fun as you might imagine. Quick, furtive, and painful."

"Painful?"

Hermione shrugged. "A little. Mostly it was just...uncomfortable. Unpleasant."

Ginny smiled, a little brighter this time. "Let me guess, your first lover was just as inexperienced as you were."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Cormac McLaggen. I was the first girl he slept with."

"Where did it happen?"

Hermione couldn't believe she was sharing this with Hermione. With anyone, really. "The backseat of his dad's car. After the senior prom." She shook off the memory of it. "I really hit all the cliches, huh?"

Ginny chuckled. "Yeah. But they're cliches for a reason." She sipped her tea. "Was that the only time?"

Hermione felt her cheeks warm again. "No," she whispered. It was frightening to voice these things out loud. But exciting too. "We did it in his bed about a month later. His family was out for the evening. I was scared to death they would come home early and catch us."

"So it wasn't any better, I suspect," Ginny said.

"No. It made me wonder if it was overrated." Hermione met Ginny's gaze. "Sex, you know?"

Ginny grinned. "I know. It's not, you know. You just had some bad experiences."

Now Hermione had to look away, a blush heating her face. "Yeah," she said. Her throat tightened up, making it hard to speak. "I know. I've—I've seen it."

"That doesn't mean I haven't had some disappointing experiences myself," Ginny said.

That surprised Hermione. She met Ginny's gaze again. "Really?"

Ginny nodded. "My first time wasn't much better than yours. The difference is, I didn't expect any different. I just wanted to get that first time over with."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She'd never imagined Ginny being insecure or anxious or disappointed about sex. It made sense. There had to be a first time for everyone. But somehow she'd imagined Ginny's first time as some magical experience full of wonder and pleasure. Everything her own first experience had not been.

Ginny must have seen her thoughts in her face. "My second time was much better," she said. "Better than my first, better than yours. He was an older man of nearly eighteen. He did a much better job than the first guy."

She didn't elaborate. Hermione still wasn't sure what to say. She finished her tea instead and got up. "More?"

Ginny stared at her own empty cup for a moment, then held it out. "Please. I don't think I'm going to sleep for a while yet."

Hermione busied herself making two fresh cups of tea. She was aware of Ginny's eyes on her, watching her. She wondered what Ginny was thinking, but knew Ginny would speak when she was ready. She handed Ginny her tea and then settled carefully on her own bed again.

"Much as we've both enjoyed this," Ginny said, "I don't think you can keep getting your vicarious jollies through me. It's time you got your own jollies."

"I—what do you mean?" Ginny didn't want Hermione watching her any longer? Hermione was surprised and alarmed to realize that she didn't want to stop. She liked spying on Ginny as she had sex. She liked masturbating to orgasm while she did.

Ginny set her teacup aside carefully, then scooched to the edge of her bed, where she could reach out and clasp Hermione's hands around her own teacup. "Don't panic," she said. "I'm not saying we can't keep playing our little game. I like it too, remember." Her eyes twinkled. "I like it a lot, actually. Knowing I'm being watched really turns me on."

She gave Hermione a knowing look. "But you'd have a lot more fun if you were having sex instead of just watching. Don't you think?"

Hermione cast her gaze around the room, excited and scared and aroused and unable to meet Ginny's gaze for a long moment. Did she want to have sex herself? Hell, yes. Could she? Well, yes, clearly—because she had before. Not good sex, but sex all the same. But could she do it here, at college, in a room she shared with Ginny, knowing that Ginny would know she was having sex? When Ginny would know she wanted sex?

It felt scarily intimate, this sharing such feelings with someone—anyone—else. But it was also liberating. She'd shared more with Ginny in the last two months than she'd ever shared with her parents or her friends at home. She'd spent eighteen years doing her best to remain unknown, keeping her crushes, her desires, all but the most innocuous of feelings, from everyone.

And she was tired of it. Tired of being so constrained by expectations. The expectations of her parents and teachers and neighbors. The expectations of her family and friends. They all expected her to be a good, Christian girl. Quiet, polite, obedient, modest. Religious. Chaste. She'd hated it. But she'd complied. In the fishbowl in which she'd lived, what choice had she had? Good girl or bad. Chaste and obedient, or a disowned slut. A fallen woman no decent man would ever marry.

But she'd escaped. She was living away from home, amongst people who'd never lived in that environment. Sharing a room with a girl—a friend—whose own life had been radically different, and who dared to think and act as she wished. Hermione hadn't realized how much of that lifelong indoctrination she'd carried with her. Too much.

"Yes," Hermione whispered. She wasn't sure Ginny heard her. "Yes," she repeated. "I want to have sex myself instead of just watching."

Ginny smiled slyly. "Or maybe in addition," she said. "And I might want to watch you sometimes, too. Would that be all right?"

Hermione felt her shocked, aroused and embarrassed response throughout her body. Trust Ginny to push her a little farther still. "Yes," she said. "I think I'd like that too."


	10. Chapter 10

"I feel foolish," Hermione said. She also felt daring for admitting as much. Sharing her feelings with Ginny—with anyone, really—was a new behavior, and not yet a habit. It was getting easier, but it was still uncomfortable sometimes.

"Don't," Ginny said. "You look good."

Hermione looked in the mirror. "Really?" She and Ginny were standing in front of Ginny's open wardrobe, where a full length mirror hung facing them. An unrecognizable woman in make-up and wearing a scandalously thin dress stared back at her. And it wasn't just the dress. The underwear she'd bought with Ginny was even thinner and wispier than the dress. She felt practically naked.

She watched Ginny look her up and down in the mirror. "Yes, really. You look good. You're just used to only ever seeing yourself in jeans and a t-shirt. You'll get over it."

"I'm practically naked!"

"Yeah, that's kind of the idea. You've got a nice body. It's time you let the world see it," Ginny said. She met Hermione's eyes in the mirror. "You do want to get laid, don't you?"

Hermione wondered if the make-up on her face would conceal her blush. "Yes."

"Then listen to Auntie Ginny. You're cute even in jeans and a t-shirt, but you're sexy when you take the time to get dressed up. We're going to a party. You want to look good for Viktor, right?"

"I guess."

Ginny gave her a sharp look. Hermione closed her eyes, frustrated by her own reticence. "Yes," she corrected herself. Be honest. "I want to look good for Viktor."

It was supposed to be a double date. Ginny would be dating Harry and Hermione would be dating his roommate Viktor. So far, nothing to get too alarmed about. But after the party, Ginny would be going back to Harry's room with him, and Viktor...might possibly come back to Hermione's room. If she liked him. And if he wanted. And if she didn't chicken out at the last minute.

"And you do," Ginny said. "Let's go knock his socks off."

Hermione clutched a plastic cup of beer in one hand, trying not to spill it on herself or anyone else. That wasn't easy. The party was crowded. Far too many people crammed into too small a space. There was barely room enough to move. The house, a student rental she'd been told, was jammed with enough people to give the Fire Marshall a conniption if he'd known.

The room was dark too. Some things didn't change between high school and college, apparently. And the desire to stumble around in the dark while partying was apparently one of those things. She didn't understand, and never had. Supposedly Ginny and Harry were here somewhere, but she'd lost track of them almost immediately.

Viktor turned out to be a nice looking guy. A little taller than Hermione, but solid. His dark hair was cut fairly short. His eyes were brown. He had a nice smile, too. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved pullover shirt. When they first met, Hermione wondered briefly what he would look like out of his clothes. That she even entertained the question shocked her initially, but she reminded herself that that was why Ginny and Harry had set them up.

Now Viktor shouted something. The party was loud too. They stood practically nose to nose and she still couldn't make out half of what he said. Something about classes he was taking, she thought. She smiled and pretended she could hear him over the blare of danc music and all the other party-goers shouting to make themselves heard.

This, she thought. This is why I don't go out to parties. All the excitement and terror she'd experienced anticipating her date had long since drained away. Now she was just overheated by the press of bodies, overstimulated by the blaring music and roar of conversations, and bored by it all. She didn't even drink for God's sake! Not that she had any objections to drinking—she had just never developed a taste for beer. She was only holding one because it was the only way to stop everyone around her trying to press one on her.

Viktor touched her wrist. Hermione realized she'd zoned out. Not very polite of her. She scraped up a weak smile and a nod in response to Viktor's words. He chuckled, the sound lost in the noise that enveloped them. He leaned in so he could speak into her ear.

"You're hating this, aren't you?"

Her first instinct was to deny it. To put on a brave face and endure for the sake of being sociable and polite. It was how she'd been raised. One of the many rules she'd absorbed over the years. One of the rules she was determined to shed.

She nodded. "Yes!" she yelled into Viktor's ear. She clamped down on the immediate and powerful urge to soften her words, to temporize, justify, explain.

"You wanna get out of here? Go somewhere else?"

Hermione felt the anxiety crystallize in her belly like a lump of ice. Oh god. He was going to want to go back to her room and fuck, wasn't he? She wasn't ready for that. All her fantasies about having sex with him had curdled over the last half hour. She didn't feel remotely sexy or horny. The last thing she wanted now was to be so intimate with Viktor—or with anyone. Or to have to beg off, to try to placate him. To hope he didn't get angry.

Viktor shouted, "Wanna go to The Three Broomsticks?"

Hermione nodded, greatly relieved. The icy lump in her belly shrank. He was suggesting they go to one of the delis that surrounded the campus. She'd been there. It was public, it was well lit, and it was quiet. They could sit and talk, probably eat something. He wasn't expecting sex.

Not yet, anyhow. But she could worry about that later. She nodded. "Yes!"

Viktor straightened, plucked the nearly full cup of beer from her hand and handed it off to someone in the crowd. He grinned at her, took her hand, and turned to break trail toward the exit, drawing her along in his wake. Hermione eagerly followed close, looking forward to her escape.

Popping through a knot of party-goers at the door into the cool night air was a relief. The noise level here was still high, but more tolerable. Viktor led her down the walk to the street, where it was possible to speak to one another without shouting. He turned abruptly, and Hermione bumped into him.

He smiled at her. "Is this better?"

Her first instinctive reaction was to edge back, putting a little space between them. She did, but only a little. He was a few inches taller than Hermione—who wasn't?—but not especially muscular. Definitely male, but not aggressively so. She smiled at him. "Yeah, it is. Thanks."

"Not much point in staying at a party if you aren't enjoying it." He turned to stand at her side, one hand on her shoulder. "Shall we?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah."

They walked across the campus in silence. After the auditory assault of the party, Hermione was content to enjoy the silence. But why was Viktor so quiet? Was he regretting agreeing to the date? Did he wish he could leave? Was he just being polite in hopes of having sex with her later? Did he want to have sex with her? Maybe he was disappointed in her?

"That party was really loud, wasn't it?"

Hermione looked up at him. "Yeah, it was."

"This is better."

Hermione nodded.

Viktor pulled her a little closer as they walked. She took that as a positive sign. They continued walking. They passed a number of other students, individuals, couples and even a group or two. She put her arm around his waist, feeling daring for doing so, and silly for feeling that way.

The Three Broomsticks Kosher Deli was a small clapboard and brick building just across the street from several campus dormitories. It was one of a number of delis, pizzerias and convenience stores within easy walking distance of the student body. Hermione and Viktor ordered sandwiches and drinks, then found a table.

"You and Hermione double date much?" Viktor asked.

Hermione shook her head. "This is the first time. My first date, period."

"Really? Nobody's asked you out? I find that hard to believe."

Hermione looked down at her food, trying to hide her smile. It was blatant flattery, but she liked it all the same. She felt attractive, sexy even. Not at all the way she usually felt. She wondered if he'd feel the same way if she were dressed normally. "Believe it," she said, meeting his eyes. She smiled. "Besides, technically you didn't ask me out either. Ginny and Harry arranged this date."

Viktor matched her smile. "You've got me there. But that's only because I'd never met you before. I would definitely have asked you out if I had."

More flattery. If he continued it would quickly lose its charm.

He didn't. The conversation turned to getting-to-know-you subjects. Classes. Families. Home towns. Viktor was from out-of-state, from New York City. His description of growing up there fascinated her. Her own experience of the fishbowl that was her home town didn't so much fascinate him as shock him.

By the time the conversation ran down, they'd long since finished their meal. Viktor excused himself to the restroom. Hermione glanced up from her phone as Viktor returned. Hermione cleared the table, then resumed her seat. She checked her phone for messages, then composed a text to Ginny.

"Ready to go?" Viktor asked, returning. He laid a few dollars on the table for a tip.

"Yup." Hermione hit Send and then tucked her phone back into her purse. "Just letting Ginny know we left the party. Should have done that earlier."

Viktor grinned. "It's been a while. Hope she wasn't waiting on you."

Hermione laughed. "I doubt that." She's probably already in bed with Harry.

"Yeah," Viktor said. "Me too." His expression told Hermione that he was as aware of Ginny and Harry's relationship as she was.

Hermione felt her smile slip. Ginny and Harry were no doubt having sex right now.

The night air outside The Three Broomsticks was cooler still. Hermione shivered. Her dress wasn't much protection. Viktor stepped up behind her to wrap his arms around her. "Cold?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes." The warmth of his arms and torso were pleasant.

"Let's get you home, then," Viktor said. And into bed, went the unspoken addendum. Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

Or not. That was the whole point of this exercise, wasn't it? To get her laid? Hermione frowned, annoyed with herself. She'd wanted this. She'd agreed to it. She'd spent several days—and nights—fantasizing about it. Why was she so goddamned skittish now?

Because, she answered herself, it's real now. She'd gone to the party with Viktor. She'd spent some time with him at the deli, talking and laughing and even flirting. Now the only thing left was to return to her room and take him to bed.

Hermione debated with herself the whole walk back to her room. Was she going to go through with this? Kiss him goodnight at her door? She couldn't decide what she wanted to do. Which would she regret most?

Viktor pulled open the front door for her. She led him to the stairway and then down the hall to her room. Fortune smiled on her: they didn't run into anyone in the hallway, so nobody gave her a knowing look for bringing a guy back to her room. They reached her door.

"Well, here you are," Viktor said, his voice carefully neutral.

Hermione met his gaze. She realized he looked as uncertain as she felt. And why not? If she didn't know what she wanted, how could he possibly hope to know? Whatever he was hoping would happen, he clearly wasn't going to push her, or assume a sure thing. If she said goodnight to him here, she felt certain he'd accept it and leave. He wouldn't make a scene, or try to push her into something she wasn't ready for.

Tension she hadn't realized she'd been carrying melted away—and with it much of the uncertainty she'd struggled with. This was her choice, and always had been. She could do what she liked, and what she liked was the idea of sex with Viktor. Hermione smiled and put her hands on his shoulder, rising onto her toes to kiss him. He kissed her back, his hands finding her hips, then sliding around to pull her into his arms as the kiss went on.

He was warm, and solid and kissed well. Hermione relaxed into him, opening her mouth to his questing tongue, meeting his explorations with her own. His arms drew her closer still, one hand slipping down to cup her buttock. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning closer, aware of how her breasts pressed against his body, and of the hard lump against her belly.

The kiss ended with Hermione practically wrapped around him, her breathing deep and a little unsteady, mingled excitement and anxiety singing through her body. She kissed his cheek before speaking softly into his ear. "Wanna come inside?"

His lips brushed her neck beneath her ear, provoking a shiver. "Very much."

Hermione released her hold on him, turning in his arms to face her door. She fumbled the key out of her tiny purse with difficulty, and unlocked the door with unsteady hands. I'm not nervous, she told herself, I'm excited. Either way, her hands trembled and she felt overheated at the same time that her hands felt cold.

She stepped into the room with Viktor right behind her, seized by a sudden fear that she might intrude on Ginny and Harry. She'd left her desk lamp on to provide some illumination without the harsh overhead lights. It revealed an empty room. She and Viktor shuffled around until she could shut the door—and lock it.

A locked door between her and the world helped. Nobody would be barging into the room while she was—if she decided to.... Hermione shook her head, refusing to let her doubts take hold again. She wanted this.

"Hermione?"

"I'm fine," she said. She turned in place, still very close to Viktor, until she faced him again. His mouth was very close and very inviting. She kissed him with all the enthusiasm and determination she could muster.

His arms enveloped her again, and she melted into him, exploring his mouth with her tongue the way he'd done to her. She swayed slightly, eyes closed, focused on the excitement of kissing him, expressing her desire so clearly in the way she clung to him. The feel of his arms around her, his hands caressing her back and buttocks through the thin dress made her shiver.

She pulled away enough to speak, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Wanna go to bed?" she asked, half expecting her breath to smoke she felt so overheated with arousal.

Viktor's eager expression wasn't matched by his cautious tone. "You're sure?"

Hermione nodded.

His grin was joyous. "Yes, please!"

Hermione's legs trembled as they walked the few steps to her bed. She felt the butterflies in her stomach fluttering their wings again. She realized she had no clear idea what to do now. Did she undress herself? Undress him? Did they undress one another?

Viktor sat down on the bed. He patted the surface beside him. "Let's sit here."

Hermione sat, only realizing she'd left some space between them after it was done. It wasn't even a conscious decision. Before she could say something—but what?—Viktor moved closer, putting his arm around her. Then he kissed her again. A long, gentle, thorough kiss that helped silence her inner voice.

She kissed him back, relieved to have that voice silenced. She laid one hand against his chest, enjoying the feel of his body against her hand under his shirt. She focused on the feel of his mouth on hers, on the gentle way he nipped at her lip, then strung kisses along her cheek to her neck. His mouth on her sent repeated chills down her spine. His lips and teeth brushing and nibbling on her earlobe made her quiver all over.

Viktor's free hand came to rest on her bare knee. Hermione drew a startled breath, stifled the flinch response, and arched her neck, offering it to him. Viktor nipped at her earlobe again. When she quivered, he whispered, "I love it when you do that," his breath tickling her ear and provoking another shiver of excitement.

She turned her head, finding his mouth with hers, silently demanding more kisses. He was happy to oblige. The hand on her knees slid higher, under her skirt, to stroke her thigh. His touch was firm, not tentative. She liked that. She liked the feel of his hand on her bare leg, and liked that he was confident of her interest.

A brief memory of Cormac's fumbling, hesitant touch after the prom surfaced, threatening her equilibrium. She broke the kiss and took Viktor's earlobe between her teeth for an instant, before teasing it with her tongue. His full-body shiver surprised her into a giggle, and she thought no more about Cormac.

She cupped the back of his head in one hand and pulled him down with her as she lay back on the bed without letting go his ear. He moaned softly, the sound of his pleasure cutting through her to leave her more aroused, and wanting more. She reached down to pluck his hand from her thigh and place it on her breast. He responded by cupping it, his thumb circling her nipple through her dress and bra. She gasped, his earlobe escaping her teeth.

They continued trading kisses, nips and nibbles. Viktor drew the shoulder strap of her sundress down, revealing the lacy beige bra and stroking her erect nipple through the sheer fabric. She tugged at the hem of his polo shirt until she'd pulled it free of his jeans, exploring the smooth warm contours of his waist.

At some point, Hermione pulled away long enough to reach for and turn out her bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Emboldened by the dark, she groped for and found the hem of Viktor's shirt, and tugged at it. He cooperated in pulling it off, then pulled her into his arms as they lay on their sides. His bare skin was warm and soft over firm flesh, thrilling to touch. The excitement of having him half naked in her bed was absurdly intoxicating.

She felt his hand slide up her arm to cup her cheek an instant before his mouth found hers again. As he kissed her, she felt him unzip her dress an inch at a time. When it sagged open, he ran his hand up her bare back to the strap of her bra. He pinched it between his hands and she felt the band separate.

His lips brushed hers when he said, "Let me undress you."

Her voice was barely loud enough for her to hear it. "Okay."

Getting out of her clothes wasn't the effortlessly sexy act Hermione might have imagined. It was a little awkward, in fact, involving stray elbows and disarranged hair and muttered apologies and anxious giggles. But she was trembling with excitement when she stretched out again, lying next to him. Skin to skin. Naked.

He was naked too. He'd somehow shed his own clothes while undressing her in the dark. Naked and excited. Lying on their sides once more, facing one another, bodies pressed together there was no way for her to miss it. It felt huge. Monstrous. So enormous that Hermione knew her imagination was running away with her. It couldn't be as big as all that.

One way to find out.

The thought bubbled up out of nowhere. It shocked her. And being shocked annoyed her. She reached down to take him—to take his cock—in her hand. It was hot and hard and she could hardly believe she'd done it. Viktor made a pleased sound deep in his throat.

Hermione stroked him, very gently. Viktor groaned in pleasure. She marveled at the feel of soft skin sliding over hard flesh, and she smiled to herself. He wasn't nearly as big as her imagination had suggested. Large enough, yes. But not a monster.

She continued caressing him, wondering if she were doing it right. She guessed yes, based on the way Viktor's hips moved gently and the sounds of pleasure he made. When she tentatively caressed the head of his cock, he gasped and then groaned louder. "Oh wow, that's so good," he said.

Hermione propped herself on one elbow. Her eyes had adapted to the dark, which wasn't really so dark after all. The LED alarm clocks, the power lights on chargers, on the laptops open on the two desks, all provided light enough to see dimly. She could see what she was doing now, even if she didn't know what she was doing.

But she'd always been a quick learner. She experimented with her grip, with the speed of her strokes, and the length. She listened to and watched Viktor's reactions, and felt them in the way he moved under her hand. Once or twice he hissed softly and she saw him make an abortive move to grab her hand. "Not so tightly," he said once, and "That's a little rough."

She modified her approach and there was no more of that. Only the soft animal noises of pleasure that turned her on. It excited her to learn this, to realize she could make him feel so good, that she was in control. And she was. He liked this a lot, that not so much, and this made him quiver all over and make sexy little noises.

When he took her hand, stilling it, she glanced at him, wondering why. Wondering if she were doing something wrong. His smile eased her fears. "My turn," he said.

He rose on one elbow, mirroring her posture. He gave her a kiss. "Why don't you lie down?" he said.

When she complied, he lowered his head to kiss her again, a long, soft kiss that ended too soon. He followed it up with a kiss to the cheek, then a string of kisses along her jaw and down her neck that tickled slightly and made her skin tighten with anticipation. He cupped one breast in his hand a moment before his lips closed around her nipple.

Hermione sighed with pleasure. The flick of his tongue across her nipple made the breath catch in her throat. She arched her back, wanting more. Viktor obliged her, sucking, licking, occasionally nipping at her nipple as he caressed her breasts with both hands. He shifted his attention to her other nipple for a time, then alternated between them briefly.

He kissed his way down her belly, pausing for a moment to make her giggle ticklishly when he explored her navel with his tongue. Then he resumed his advance. Hermione wriggled with excitement and nervousness. She remembered seeing Ginny's lovers going down on her, and how much Ginny had enjoyed it. The thought of Viktor kissing her so intimately was intensely arousing, and she wanted very badly to feel his mouth on her.

He planted a kiss in the soft curls of her pubic hair, pausing to draw an audible breath. Hermione felt a momentary stab of doubt. She was wet and her labia swollen, more physically excited than she could ever remember being. Could he smell her? Did he like how she smelled? What if—no. She cut the thoughts off. Damned if she was going to let her doubts interfere now.

She spread her legs, eager for his mouth on her pussy, the act itself making her feel wanton, even slutty. Good girls didn't. Or so she'd been told endlessly. Well, she was a good girl and she damn well did. Or was damn well going to.

He kissed her again, squarely on her pussy. Delicately. It was a pleasurable sensation, but not earth-shaking. The awareness of lying naked in bed with a guy, her legs spread for him, as he kissed her pussy—that was almost more than she could bear. She felt light-headed and shaky, excited almost beyond endurance by the situation.

Viktor's lips parted to allow his tongue to caress her. He stroked her with it, licked and lapped and explored her pussy. He was very careful at first, almost too careful, too hesitant. She appreciated that he cared about her comfort. But she wanted, she needed, more. She tried to speak up, tried to say as much.

Her voice failed her, choked off by all those years of programming, unable even now to speak candidly. It was infuriating, or could have been, if she were willing to let it break the mood. But she was too close to getting what she wanted now.

She used her hands instead. She placed her hands on Viktor's head and pulled him close, guiding him.

He took the hint. His attentions became more confident, more insistent. The delightful sensations grew stronger. Her hold on him relaxed, then fell away entirely, as she lost herself in the pleasure. It made no difference now. Viktor needed no more guidance.

Hermione lay with her eyes closed, the better to focus on the delicious sensations Viktor was providing her. She lay sprawled on the bed, body limp save for the hard points of her nipples and the lovely tension being generated by Viktor's talented mouth.

He caressed her pussy lips with his lips and tongue, sliding between them to lap at her juices, or send a jolt of pleasure through her when he stroked her clit. She sensed him moving around, but the slippery friction of his lips and tongue never slackened. She groaned aloud, unable to keep silent but also wanting him to hear, to know how much she enjoyed what he was doing to her.

It got even better when he began to use his fingers too.

The tension between her legs intensified, stoked by the pleasure of first one, then two fingers, gently but insistently stroking deeper and deeper inside her. All the while his lips and tongue glided around and over and across her clit, ratcheting the delicious tension higher and higher. It spread to her belly, quickened her breathing, and tightened her skin all over. Her nipples felt so hard and so sensitive that she thought a single touch would send her over the edge.

She panted with desire, the tension reaching unbearable heights, pressing her hands into the mattress, arching her back and spreading her legs, wanting more. Desperate for more. She heard someone begging and realized it was her own voice softly chanting, "don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop—"

He didn't. His lips and tongue and fingers drove her beyond endurance. For one dizzying instant of clarity she sensed her orgasm looming over her like a tsunami, an unstoppable force of nature, awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once. The instant passed, and all thought vanished, blotted out by the pulsing waves of ecstasy.

The waves of pleasure peaked and receded, leaving her limp and panting, aware of lying in the dark with Viktor kneeling by the bed, his arms resting on her thighs. He alternated kisses to her inner thighs, close enough for his chin to brush her pubic hair when he turned his head. Hermione shivered at the sensation, too sensitive for more but enjoying the stimulation.

She touched his head. He looked up. Words failed her again. She gestured for him to come closer. He grinned and scrambled up to stretch out beside her, slipping an arm beneath her head. She felt his hard cock against her thigh, feeling hot enough to burn her flesh.

He held her gaze for a moment, a contented smile on his face, before kissing her.

His lips were wet, and he tasted of...well, of her. In fact, his cheeks and chin were wet, too. Not too surprising, really. He'd gotten her very excited. For a moment, she wondered how he felt about that. Wondered if he was disliked it, disliked the smell and the taste and the evidence of her...unladylike reactions. Slutty, you mean her inner Good Girl corrected her.

Shut up, Hermione replied. Just shut up. She kissed Viktor as enthusiastically as she could manage, defying the voice. She breathed in the scent—her scent—and found that she liked it. She wrapped her arms around him, and hooked one leg over his hip, clinging to him, trying to show him with her behavior if not her words, just how much she'd liked what he'd done.

They smooched for a long time. Long, lingering kisses that sometimes involved tongues and sometimes didn't. Viktor toyed with her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard points that sent jolts of pleasure through her body to her pussy. He ran a large, warm hand across her belly, her thighs, and occasionally through the damp tangle of her pubic hair.

She stroked his body everywhere she could reach. She liked the lines of his jaw, the curve of muscle over his shoulder, his arms and chest. She spent a lot of time exploring the shape of his hip and buttocks and the small of his back. She built up a detailed mental map by touch, enjoying the opportunity to explore a guy's body so thoroughly.

All the while she was acutely aware of his cock, lying against her thigh, or poking her sometimes as they moved. She knew he wanted to fuck her, though he seemed endlessly patient. More patient than she had any right to expect, really. And besides, she wanted him to fuck her too. The thought brought mingled excitement and nerves, but the balance had shifted. It excited her to imagine feeling him inside her, feeling him come inside her—and to imagine, to hope, that she'd come too.

She never had with Cormac. But Cormac, she knew now, had not been a good lover. He'd been as inexperienced, nervous and anxious as she'd been. It wasn't his fault, but his fumbling efforts had left her unmoved. Watching Ginny and her lovers had shown Hermione what good sex could be. She wanted that.

She kissed him again, wrapping both arms around his neck, pulling him with her as she rolled onto her back. He lay on top of her now, his hard cock trapped between them, his hips cradled between her spread legs. She rocked her hips, evoking a groan from him. She lifted her head, kissing him more urgently, wordlessly signaling her desire.

Viktor broke the kiss. He pushed himself up onto his hands, taking his weight off her, then reached out with one hand to snag a condom packet from the bedside table. He pushed himself upright to kneel between her legs. Hermione watched him tear open the packet and put the condom on. He was really going to do it. She was really going to do it.

The knowledge that she was about to have sex was almost more than she could bear. It left her feeling light-headed, as if she might pass out. She felt incredibly grown-up, and at the same time silly for feeling that way. This was only new to her. People had been having sex for forever; there were people having sex all over the campus tonight.

This wasn't even her first time. Just the first time she'd really wanted it, the first time she expected to really enjoy it. She wanted it very badly.

Viktor lowered himself onto his elbows, his body poised above hers. The weight of his belly on hers, the insistent hardness of his cock pressed into her flesh mere inches from her pussy, thrilled her. She spread her legs wider, opening herself to him, offering herself. She wanted desperately for him to fuck her. Why wasn't he fucking her yet?

Face to face, almost nose to nose, he paused to study her expression in the dark, his own face sober. She knew he was watching for some sign, some indication that she was sure she wanted this. She felt an instant of exasperation. How could he not know she wanted this so badly? That she was as hot for it as he was?

Wasn't it obvious? Wasn't it?

Well, if not, she'd make it obvious.

Hermione reached down between their bodies, between her legs and grabbed his cock with one hand. It was hard and hot and the rubbery sheath felt slick against her palm. Viktor drew in a noisy breath, from surprise or arousal or some other emotion when she grabbed him. She couldn't tell and she didn't care.

She tilted her hips to present her open pussy, dragged the head of his erect cock through her pubic hair, over her clit—drawing her own noisy breath of excitement at the slippery friction—before seating it firmly between the open, sopping lips of her pussy. The slippery friction here wasn't so intense, but it was still powerfully exciting. And surely he couldn't mistake her intent now!

He didn't. He drove forward, not quickly but firmly. His cock, which felt immense, slid deeper, parting her flesh, opening her up as he impaled her. She drew her hand out of the way, wanting nothing between them. She wanted nothing to prevent him getting deeper. She wanted all of him. She felt him going deeper and deeper, filling her up in way Cormac never had.

It felt glorious. She'd never felt herself stretched open like this, never felt anyone penetrate her so deeply. Possibly too deeply. But just as she began to worry that it was too much for her, she felt his pubis touch hers. She'd taken it all. He was buried to the hilt inside her. He felt immense, hot and hard, and it was close—it was so close!—to too much. She lay utterly still, feeling that the slightest movement would tip her over the edge into discomfort.

Viktor remained still as well, save for drawing a deep breath and then releasing it in a long sigh. "That feels so good," he whispered, before he brushed his lips against hers in the lightest of kisses.

He shifted his weight. Hermione whimpered, afraid for an instant that he was going to try to go deeper—and then in displeasure when he eased backward, withdrawing. Pulling away, dragging his hard cock out slowly, despite the slippery friction her pussy, sent a burst of pleasure through her body like a shower of sparks.

Hermione heard herself make a wordless sound of pleasure, that ended on a note of disappointment. He'd pulled almost all the way out. Moments ago she'd feared that having him buried inside her was too much, and now she missed the sensation. She tightened her grip on his buttocks—when had she grabbed him that way? She tightened her hold, prepared to pull him closer if she had to.

She didn't have to. He pushed forward, driving his cock inside her again. He thrust harder this time, not so slowly. She felt less resistance this time. She didn't feel quite so tight, or he didn't feel quite so big. But the pleasure was more intense.

Viktor withdrew again. The slippery friction sent a sudden shiver through her body. She felt the muscles of his ass flex and he was driving himself inside her again. Hermione's fingers tightened on his ass. She liked feeling it move beneath her fingers, liked how it moved his cock inside her, back and forth. It felt good either way.

He began to move more rapidly now, and oh god it felt good. Hermione maintained her hold on his ass at first, but it was soon clear that he didn't need any guidance from her. She let her hands slide up his back, admiring the hard muscles she felt there, and the way they too flexed as he supported his body above hers, as he thrust his hips, driving his cock inside her over and over.

Fucking her.

He was fucking her. And she was letting him. No, better than that. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted to fuck him, and she was.

The enormity of it all took her breath away. That she could even admit that to herself felt huge. She felt as if she'd become someone else. And maybe she had. The girl who had moved into this room weeks ago could never have imagined doing what she was doing. She could never have imagined that she'd have a good-looking guy like this in her bed, kissing her well, fucking her so good.

So good. So...fucking...good. Oh god—

Hermione quivered and her arms tightened around Viktor's torso, pulling him down on top of her. Pleasure roared through her body like fire, consuming everything. She trembled and gasped and clung to Viktor with desperate strength.

The firestorm burned itself out, leaving her weak and gasping for breath. The weight of Viktor's body, easily ignored a moment ago, became uncomfortable. She relaxed her hold on him so he could take his weight on his elbows again, allowing her to breath. His hips remained cradled between her spread thighs.

Hermione could feel him, still hard and still inside her. He thrust forward gently. The jolt of pleasure that rolled through her body was almost more than she could bear. She was still coming down from her orgasm. Still very sensitive. And, she realized, still horny. She thought she could come again. If Viktor kept fucking her, she could come again.

She wanted that. Until this moment, she'd never really thought of it as a possibility. But now it was, and she wanted it. She wanted it badly.

Hermione rocked her hips, silently urging Viktor to continue.

He took the hint.

He was eager, and probably as excited as Hermione was. The careful, gentle thrusting of before was a thing of the past. He crouched above her, his weight on his elbows, face to face with her, panting as he fucked her faster and harder. Hermione held his gaze, wanting him to see her expression as the pleasurable tension she felt ratcheted higher and higher.

His expression grew wilder, his panting breaths grew louder. Seeing him grow more excited only added to Hermione's excitement, which seemed to turn him on even more. Her arousal spiraled up to an unbearable pitch and she cried out as it overwhelmed her once more. She convulsed, unable to control her body as the pleasure burned through her flesh once more.

She was distantly aware of Viktor rigid and shuddering above her, of the wordless moans of pleasure he made. Her own pleasure peaked and faded, leaving her gasping for breath, heart racing. Viktor's body lost its rigidity and he sagged above her, only his elbows keeping him from crushing her beneath his weight. He gasped for air as well. Sweat beaded his forehead.

He met her gaze and gave her a weary, satisfied grin. "That was fun."

She found herself matching his grin with her own. "Yes, it was."

He said nothing more, just stared at her. His eyes as he studied her face. She wondered what he was seeing. She wondered if she should say something else. But what?

Viktor interrupted her train of thought by kissing her abruptly, a fierce, aggressive kiss that surprised her, then excited her. He crushed his lips to hers, and his tongue explored her mouth. She could hear and feel the deep, warm breaths on her cheek before he broke the kiss to gasp for air. "God, you're sexy," he said when he had recovered his breath.

Sexy? Her? "Really?"

"Damn right," Viktor said. He kissed her again, a gentler touch of his lips. "You're gorgeous and sexy and I'm very glad I'm in your bed."

"I'm glad, too," Hermione said, but even as she spoke, she felt uneasy. What now? She'd accomplished her goal. She'd had sex with Viktor. And he'd had sex with her. What did he want to do now? Would he want to leave? Did she want him to?

Viktor rolled onto his side, still pressed up against her, but no longer looming above her. He propped his head on one hand, his gaze roaming over her face. "What are you thinking?"

The question took Hermione by surprise. She blinked. "Isn't that my line?"

"Why?" Viktor asked. He held her gaze. "Because you're a woman?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated, appalled. He was right. She was buying into some serious sexism. "Yeah," she admitted, shamefaced.

Viktor shrugged it off. "So, what are you thinking?"

Hermione met his gaze, uncertain how to respond. No, not uncertain of her response. Uncertain whether she wanted to tell him. Or whether she could. She feared her voice would betray her, as it so often did by falling silent when she needed it. She looked away, unable to face him while she wrestled with her fears.

"Hold that thought," Viktor said. He turned away to rise to his feet by the bed, his back to her.

Hermione felt her heartbeat thud abruptly in her breast. Was he leaving? Was he mad at her, or disappointed? "What? Where are you going?" Had she fucked up somehow?

Viktor turned, surprise in his face. "Just...going to clean up a bit," he said. He held the condom he'd been wearing between two fingers. "Be right back." He walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Hermione sagged into the mattress, covering her face with one hand. Jeez. Over-react much? She felt really stupid again, and self-centered too. He probably didn't know or care about her inner debates. It was just a casual question, a conversation starter. Not the third degree. Not everyone overthought over moment of their existence.

He was probably just happy he'd gotten laid.

No. That was unfair. Yes, he was probably happy he'd gotten laid. She hoped so. But she was happy she'd gotten laid too. That was the whole point of this exercise, after all.

Hermione lowered her hand. The bathroom door was still closed. She heard the fan running, and the water. She had a minute or two to think. She felt slightly chilled now without Viktor's body next to hers as the perspiration on her skin evaporated. She twitched the sheet up to cover herself. She felt herself grinning broadly and the thought burst up into consciousness again: I had sex!

Would he want to fuck her again? She hoped so, because she knew she wanted to fuck him again. It had been more exciting and more pleasurable than she'd hoped it would be. Not as long-lasting or athletic as Ginny's escapades, but she didn't have Ginny's experience. Did Viktor? She had no idea how much experience he had. More than she, clearly, but that was probably true of almost everyone.

The bathroom door opened and Viktor emerged. He walked over to stand by her bed, looking down at her. He smiled broadly. "Hey."

Hermione matched his smile. "Hey."

"Mind if I join you?"

Hermione threw the sheet aside. Exposing her nudity to him that way felt naughty and exciting, never mind that he'd seen her naked already. "Please do."

Viktor perched on the edge of the narrow bed, then stretched out on his side so they lay belly to belly. He kissed her, a brief pressure of the lips at first, then longer and deeper kisses. One hand caressed her hip. The other cupped the back of her head, supporting it as he kissed her repeatedly.

She returned his kisses, exploring his mouth with her tongue. She caressed him too, letting her hands wander. He had such strong shoulders and arms, and she liked the feel of hard muscle beneath smooth skin. His chest was broad, not quite hairless, and his nipple hardened under her fingertips. The sound of surprised pleasure he made as they kissed aroused her.

"Like that?" she asked, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

He nodded, pulling her into another fierce open-mouthed kiss. His hand moved from her hip to cup her breast and stroke a thumb across her nipple, sending the same thrill through her body that she'd given him. Why had she never realized his nipples could be as sensitive as hers? Lack of experience, she decided. This was no time for self-criticism.

She broke their kiss and shifted position to lick at his nipple instead. His response was immediately evident in the sigh of pleasure he made—and the way his hard cock poked at her belly. She wrapped her lips around his nipple and flicked her tongue across it.

He hissed as if burned. He must really like that. She did the same to his other nipple—and he rolled onto his back to give her complete access. Yeah, he liked it. Hermione giggled, giddy with excitement and triumph, unable to continue sucking his nipples until she mastered herself and could purse her lips again.

She alternated sucking and licking his nipples, all the while caressing his body with her free hand. Viktor lay passively accepting her attentions now, content to let her do as she wished. She felt powerful and sexy. His belly quivered beneath her touch. His thighs spread when she reached lower, brushing and then grasping his hard cock. It felt so hot and hard and yet somehow delicate. Viktor groaned and lifted his hips as she stroked him.

Hermione had done that before. She knew better now how to excite him with her hand. Stroking his cock at the same time she teased at his nipples aroused him even more thoroughly. She was certain she could make him come this way. But she wasn't ready for that yet.

She wondered what it would feel like in her mouth.

Time to find out.

Hermione gave Viktor's nipples a last kiss, then wriggled down the length of the bed until her knees hung over the edge. She supported herself on one elbow, her breasts pressed against his thigh, one hand clutching his cock. It looked enormous in her hand, though she knew now that it wasn't as big as she'd once feared. It was just the right size to please her.

And she intended to please him.

She licked the underside of the head. The effect on Viktor was electrifying. He twitched all over. Hermione grinned, then took the head into her mouth. He tasted...like Viktor.

"Oh god," Viktor muttered. "That's so nice."

Hermione took more of his length into her mouth, then backed off. Then tried again, going a little deeper, working her tongue against his cock as she pulled away. That producing another groan of pleasure. She looked up at Viktor, who lay with his eyes closed, a blissful expression on his face. She grinned, then resumed her explorations.

Several minutes taught her quite a lot. Just like giving him a handjob, this really got a reaction from him, that not so much. She took only a bit of his length into her mouth, accepting that she wasn't going to be able to take it all, not without a lot of practice. Viktor didn't seem to mind at all; he sighed and groaned and occasionally quivered.

She didn't miss the tension gathering in his thighs. Or the way he shifted his hips now and then. He was really enjoying what she was doing. She wondered if she could make him come this way. Did she want him to? She wasn't sure how she'd feel about him coming in her mouth. What if she didn't like it? But what if she did?

She paused for a moment, remembering seeing Ginny giving Harry a blowjob, and seeing her swallow the result. She'd seemed to like it. Hermione shrugged mentally and resumed sucking Viktor's cock, caressing him with her tongue as she did. There was only one way to find out.

She stroked the length she couldn't swallow as she did. Viktor groaned loudly and shifted beneath her, rocking his hips gently. She took the hint and sucked and stroked him in time with his hip motions. His breathing grew louder and more ragged, and she could feel the trembling in his thighs and abdomen now, almost twitching.

"Oh god, Hermione," he muttered. "I'm gonna come."

She felt her own excitement peak at that, thrilled by the feeling of power she was exercising over him. She carefully maintained her rhythm, steeling herself for the inevitable result. Viktor's whole body convulsed and he made a strangled noise of pleasure as he came in her mouth. His cock throbbed, spurting a vast volume of semen with every pulse.

It was more than she'd expected, abruptly filling her mouth with a warm, slightly salty liquid. She swallowed some of it, not sure yet if she liked it or not. A little leaked from the corners of her mouth as she continued bobbing her head. She swallowed again, and then once more before he was done.

Viktor touched her head. "That's enough—please," he said quietly. "I'm very sensitive after I come."

Hermione let his cock escape her lips. Some of his semen spilled down her chin. She wiped it away with a finger. She still wasn't sure how she felt about swallowing it. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. Still, she liked the effect it had on him when she swallowed.

"Oh my god," Viktor said, his breathing heavy. "That was...incredible. C'mere, you." He urged Hermione to stretch out alongside him; as soon as she did, he kissed her thoroughly, a deep, tongue kiss. It surprised her, but she kissed him back.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said, her voice a little thick. The intensity of her feelings, of the pride she took in giving him such pleasure, tightened her throat.

"'Liked it' doesn't begin to describe it," Viktor said. He kissed her again before settling down beside her. He gazed at her face for a long moment. "I'm glad we did this," he said.

Hermione felt her face warm. "Me too," she said.

They lay in companionable silence. Hermione's mind threatened to run away with her as usual, spinning off into endless questions and worries and fantasies—good and bad—about what she'd just done with Viktor, and what it might mean. She did her best to just enjoy the moment. She kissed him every time she sensed her thoughts spinning up.

She kissed him frequently. He seemed to like it. Better, he didn't seem to need to fill the silence with chatter. She remembered that from their date at the deli. He talked, and asked questions, and listened. But he didn't fear occasional silences. That was more her style, and she continued kissing him every time the nagging voice in her head opened its mouth.

They dragged the top sheet back up over them after a time. Then the blanket. Hermione began to feel sleepy. So did Viktor, to judge by his kisses.

"Did you want me to stay?" Viktor asked quietly. "Or would you rather I leave?"

Hermione's arm was draped over his torso. She tightened her hold on him. "Stay," she said. Two bodies made for very close quarters on her narrow twin mattress, but she liked the feel of his body against hers, his arm holding her close.

"Good," Viktor said.

They both squirmed a little, getting comfortable before settling down. They exchanged a few more kisses, and a few more words. Hermione didn't remember afterward what they said to one another. She remembered waking to find herself spooned by Viktor. His hand stroked her bare hip. She turned her head to find him smiling at her. "Didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.

"Liar," she said, grinning. She reached back to wrap her hand around his hard cock, which was pressed firmly against her backside. A sense memory of him moving inside her, of the pleasure she'd experienced, made her next breath shaky with wanting. She twisted to lie on her back, never releasing her hold on him.

Viktor kissed and caressed her, arousing her until it was she who reached out to grab a condom package from the bedside table. Somehow her fumbling efforts to tear it open, then to remove the condom and roll it onto his cock didn't ruin the mood. Frustration gave way to anticipation as he moved into position, then to pleasure when he entered her.

"Oh, god." The slippery friction of him sliding inside her was delightful. Impaled on his cock, Hermione pulled him down on top of her, excited by the feel of his body against hers, the wantonness of clasping him to her bare breasts and cradling him between her thighs. He kissed her thoroughly, otherwise unmoving, before he began to fuck her.

This wasn't the frantic, rapid coupling of earlier. Viktor fucked her slowly, his whole body rocking against her, his mouth never far from her own. The lazy rhythm was nonetheless having an effect on her, driving her desire higher, quickening her breath and ratcheting up the delicious tension in her belly and thighs.

Viktor kissed her again. "You are so hot," he whispered, nipping at her ear.

Hermione couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to. She'd never thought of herself as hot, as sexy. The thought that Viktor found her hot still felt alien to her, and never mind that he was in her bed. That he was fucking her. Again. She clutched him more tightly, her sigh of pleasure also a sob, so strong were the feelings his words produced in her.

Her reaction fed his. He began thrusting more firmly, breathing more deeply. Hermione rocked her hips, wanting more, wanting hard, wanting faster. She groped for his ass with one hand, urging him onward. Her other hand slid through his hair to pull him into another long kiss. Viktor responded, giving her exactly what she wanted, fucking her harder, fucking her faster. She held the kiss as long as she could, urgently exploring his mouth with her tongue, breath hissing through her nostrils, as she rode the long climb to orgasm.

It roared through her like fire, consuming her. She broke the kiss to cry out, her body shuddering, curling around the ecstasy that filled her. When it receded, she was left panting and trembling, filled with a glorious lassitude. It was almost a shock to realize that Viktor was still fucking her.

He was close. Very close. He was panting heavily and thrusting hard, driving himself into her with urgent desire. Her orgasm had drained her of desire, but she was excited to feel his desire in the way he fucked her. Every thrust sent a jolt through her body. The slap of flesh against flesh filled the room the way he filled her.

She enjoyed it very much. The feel of him moving inside her, his weight on her belly, his arms holding her. It was an entirely different sort of pleasure than the frantic, growing need to come that she'd experienced. The intimacy of it, and the knowledge that he was taking such pleasure in her body was a turn on all on its own—as was the look in his eyes.

His eyes were dark but they gleamed in the dark like his smile. He'd watched her lose control, watched the pleasure turn her into a mindless animal, unable to think, intent only on the sensations he provoked in her.

Hermione smiled back, unembarrassed. No, not unembarrassed—proud. Proud to be able to lose herself like that in front of him, proud of herself for pursuing this night of sex instead of chickening out. She watched him intently, wanting to experience his loss of control as he came, eager to see what effect she could have on him.

It was everything she could have hoped. His eyes glazed, open but no longer seeing her, for an instant before he closed them. He groaned loudly, his rhythm lost as he hammered her into the mattress with frantic, irregular thrust of his hip before going rigid, body arched above her. She could feel him coming inside her, his cock pulsing repeatedly.

Hermione rocked her hips to add to the stimulation. Viktor whimpered, gulped for air, his quivering body drawn tight as a bow. Then it was over. He sagged, collapsing on top of her, breathing hard. It would become uncomfortable shortly but for the moment she reveled in the weight of his body on hers, in knowing that she'd reduced him to this.

She stroked him all over, admiring the width of his shoulders and the curve of his lower back. She kissed his neck and the corner of his jaw. "That was a nice encore," she whispered. "I enjoyed it."

He chuckled, sounding exhausted. "Me too."

Sleep beckoned again. Viktor made another trip to the bathroom. When he returned, Hermione took her turn. She didn't turn on the light. Washing her hands in the dark after flushing the toilet, she watched her dark reflection in the mirror. She seemed familiar, but also a stranger. Tonight she'd done something she'd never done before.

Not the sex. She'd had sex before. Choosing sex—consciously, deliberately, setting out to have sex with a young man simply because she wanted to. Not the fumbling, lackluster effort—as much from a sense of obligation as from any real desire—that she'd shared with Cormac back home.

She'd had sex with—she'd fucked—Viktor because she wanted to, and because she wanted to experience the kind of pleasure she'd seen Ginny experience. She grinned at her reflection. No doubt Ginny would still be at it. But Hermione didn't have her experience, and she already knew she'd be a little sore tomorrow. But god—it was worth it!

She dried her hands and returned to the bed to find Viktor asleep already. She nudged him. "Shove over, you," she said. He obediently rolled over, away from her, though she doubted he'd actually awakened. She lay down beside him, dragged the bedclothes up to cover them, and snuggled up behind him, already drifting off.


	11. Chapter 11

"I said, 'You planning to sleep all day?'"

Hermione lifted her head to squint at Ginny. She was no more than a silhouette against the blinding light from the window behind her. Hermione drew a noisy breath and sighed, exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. She was lying sprawled on her belly, her pillow clutched in her arms. "What time is it?"

"It's after noon," Ginny said.

Her words sent a jolt of alarm through Hermione. She stared at Ginny through a curtain of hair for a moment, then brushed it aside. "What! After noon?"

Sleeping in until after noon? What would her mother say? She'd say that that kind of laziness was not to be tolerated, not in her household. The threat of her lingering disapproval drove Hermione to struggle into a sitting position. She flung her bedclothes aside—and then it all came back to her.

She was in her dorm room at college, not at home. It was Sunday. She hadn't missed any classes. You missed church, though—again, her inner voice reminded her. She'd attended services at a local church exactly once since she'd started college. Not that she was going to tell her parents that.

And she really wasn't going to tell them about last night. Oh god. She felt her face grow hot just thinking about what she'd done. She'd slept with Viktor. She'd fucked Viktor. Several times. They'd awakened several times last night and had sex again each time. It wasn't just Viktor's doing, either. She remembered very clearly now waking up and wanting him.

She'd had him, too. It was the first time she had sex on top, and damned if it wasn't a thrill to ride him, setting the pace, and enjoying being in charge.

"I guess your date with Viktor was a success," Ginny said.

"Yeah?"

Ginny grinned. "Yeah. You're grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Plus, you either don't know or don't care that you're completely naked."

Hermione glance down, confirming Ginny's observation, then yanked the bedclothes up to cover herself. Her cheeks burned.

"So tell me. Was your date all that you hoped it would be?"

Hermione looked everywhere but at Ginny, feeling as if her insides had seized up. She wanted to tell Ginny all about it—and she couldn't imagine speaking of it. She tried to imagine what she would say, tried to imagine opening her mouth and saying the words. But they jammed up in her throat and she remained silent.

Ginny's sigh was almost silent. "That's okay," she said. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just thought you might want to." She scooted to the edge of her bed, clearly preparing to leave.

"I do," Hermione said. Ginny paused, looking at her. "Want to," Hermione added. "Talk about it."

Ginny remained still, watching her with a neutral expression, as if she were watching a deer, aware that the slightest movement would spook it. Was that how she looked to Ginny, Hermione wondered. Did she seem that skittish? That fragile?

Probably. "It's...not easy for me," she said. Massive understatement.

Ginny nodded carefully. "I know. You're a very private person. We've discussed that before. If I'd grown up the way you did, trapped in a tiny town with people still living in the past, I'd probably have turned out just like you."

Hermione failed to smother a huge grin.

"What's funny?"

Hermione shook her head. Then realized she was shutting down again. "It's just—I can't imagine you growing up in my home town. You wouldn't fit in."

"Exactly. I'd have been forced to conform, the way you were, or I'd have been shunned. Either way I would have been miserable." She caught Hermione's eye. "The way you were."

"I wasn't miserable!"

"Weren't you?"

"No!" Hermione felt affronted by Ginny's implication. "I had a happy childhood."

"Are you sure about that?" Ginny tilted her head. "I mean, I'm not saying your family was awful, or that they mistreated you—"

"They didn't! I had a great family. We didn't argue or fight—or nothing more than childish arguments with my siblings. We never got into any trouble with the law...."

Hermione paused to consider what she'd said. Ginny's next words might have been snatched from her thoughts. "That's a pretty low bar, though," she said. "Isn't it? But were you happy—really? Did you feel like your family understood you? Or understood the things you were interested in?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it. She thought about what Ginny had asked. Opened her mouth and closed it again. Ginny waited, silent and sympathetic. "No," Hermione said at last. "They didn't—don't—really get me. Or my interests."

She didn't have to elaborate. She'd talked to Ginny about her interest in science fiction and fantasy, and in science, and in all things strange. She'd haunted the tiny town library all through high school, reading what little they had on those topics. Even books on UFOs and Fortean pseudo-science, the supernatural and the like. Anything that suggested a bigger, more interesting world than the one she lived in.

"That must have been hard," Ginny said.

Hermione nodded, uncomfortable with the conversation. But that was pretty typical. Talking about herself, about anything that really mattered to her was always uncomfortable. Which, when she thought it, was a pretty damning statement. If talking about things that really mattered, sharing your feelings and your thoughts, was scary—what did that say about the people to whom you were closest?

"Well, enough about that," Ginny said brightly. She sat up and clasped her hands in her lap, looking attentive. "Tell me about your date with Viktor."

Hermione could have kissed her, she was so grateful for the change of topic. "It was...great," she said. "Really great. We went to the party first, but you know that. You and Harry were there too. It was too crowded and noisy and dark for me, though. So we went to get sandwiches at The Three Broomsticks. We talked for a while, then we came back here."

Ginny waited. When Hermione didn't continue she said, "And?"

Hermione looked down at her feet, wanting to say more but feeling herself close down at the thought of revealing more. Her throat felt tight. "You know."

"I have a general idea, yeah," Ginny said. "But what about the specifics? Did you have fun?" Ginny prompted her. "Did you come?"

A broad grin forced its way through her embarrassment. She looked up, meeting Ginny's gaze, shocked by her sudden eagerness to boast about it. "Yeah. I did." She paused to emphasize her next words. "Lots of times."

Ginny grinned back at her. "Good for you! You used protection, right?"

"Of course!" Hermione didn't even want to think what her parents would say if she ever got pregnant. Oh god, just the thought of it made her anxious.

"I figured," Ginny said. "But sometime in the heat of the moment it can be easy to forget."

"Yeah, but we didn't."

"Good. We should talk about other kinds of birth control sometime, though."

"Why?"

"Well, first of all, it makes it even less likely that you'll get pregnant. And second...."

"And second, what?" Hermione asked, as Ginny clearly wanted her to do.

"It's better without a condom."

"It is?"

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "Better for you, better for him. Just all around better."

Hermione was dubious. "Why?" Using a condom hadn't seemed so bad to her.

"It just feels better skin to skin," Ginny said. "You don't have to stop the action to find a condom and put it on him, or wait for him to do it—or take it off him if you want to switch from fucking to sucking him. Or put another one on him when he's ready to fuck again."

Placed in that context, Hermione understood. She'd watched Ginny having sex with—fucking—two different lovers. Hermione realized that she'd never used a condom, though she'd had plenty in her bedside drawer for Hermione to use on her date.

"Why do you have some if you don't use them?"

"Oh, I do sometimes. It depends on the guy." She gave Hermione a sly smile. "So, tell me about your date."

She did. The story didn't come smoothly, or all at once. Despite feeling ridiculously proud of herself for daring to have this adventure, despite the urge to boast of it, she still found it hard to open up even to Ginny. She revealed the story slowly, with frequent pauses, occasionally prompted by a question from Ginny. But she told the whole story, from making out before she turned out the lamp to the last kiss Viktor gave her before he left her room well after dawn.

"How do you feel about it?" Ginny asked.

Hermione considered the question for a long while, aware that Ginny sat silently waiting, giving her all the time she needed. "I feel...like a different person. Like this was such a momentous event that the world should be able to see it. Like when I walk across campus, people will look and point and whisper about how I've changed."

She shook her head at her own foolishness. "Which is stupid. I didn't do anything hundreds of other students didn't do last night. That millions of people don't do every day. It wasn't even the first time for me!"

"In some ways it was, though," Ginny said. "You said it yourself—it was the first time you had sex simply because you wanted to. Don't sell yourself short. That's a big deal." She smiled. "I'm glad it was everything you wanted it to be. So I guess you'll be seeing Viktor again?"

Hermione nodded. "I hope so."

The conversation wound down after that. Ginny packed some textbooks into her backpack and left for the library to study with a friend, leaving Hermione alone in the room. She considered going back to sleep but her conscience wouldn't let her. Too many years of her mother's rules had done their work. She climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom. A long shower helped her to wake up. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten in over twelve hours—not since a sandwich with Viktor the night before.

She stole one of Ginny's bagels and some shmear from the mini-fridge. It wasn't her first choice, but it quieted her stomach. Sunday afternoon loomed ahead of her with nothing planned. She could study—but her heart wasn't in it. Not today. None of her other usual options were any more appealing. In the end, she decided to go for a walk.

She wandered the campus for hours, marveling at the sights. The whole world seemed different. It wasn't the world, though. As she'd told Ginny, she felt as if everyone she met should be able to see her secret, to know that she'd had sex last night. Nobody did. If they'd known, they wouldn't have cared. They had their own lives—and many of them, their own lovers.

Hermione watched the other students as she walked. Individuals, couples, groups, mostly walking somewhere. It was too cold to sit outside reading or talking, or sunbathing. She wondered about the couples she saw. How many were lovers? Many of them, certainly. She smiled to herself, still a little shocked but very pleased to know that she was one of their number now.

The sun sank toward the horizon. It grew colder outside, and a single bagel wasn't enough. Hermione walked to the Commons and had dinner before returning to the room. She found Ginny at her desk studying. It was a good idea, and Hermione found that her walk had helped her settle down. She no longer felt like she'd just joined a secret society. That she'd had sex last night didn't change the fact that she had classes tomorrow. She sat down at her own desk and reached for her Geology text.


	12. Chapter 12

Monday afternoon Hermione found a note taped to the whiteboard on the door of her dorm room. It had her name on it. She unfolded it.

Guess you're not in. I had a great time with you this weekend. How about another date Friday night? I'd have called, but I don't have your number. Here's mine. Viktor.

He'd written his phone number beneath his name. Hermione studied the note, a huge grin on her face. She felt unreasonably thrilled by the note, and it warmed her all over.

She pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and added Viktor to her contacts. She sent a text: And now you have mine. I'd love to see you Friday.

Friday was painfully slow to arrive. Hermione found herself obsessed with thoughts of sex. Memories of sex with Viktor, fantasies about more sex with him. Curiosity about who else around her was having sex. It interfered with her schoolwork, distracting her in class and making it difficult to study. She masturbated almost daily, which was not like her at all!

Of course not, she told herself. She'd always rubbed one out as quickly and efficiently as possible when her sex drive became a distraction, a mechanical release to clear her mind. It was witnessing Ginny's sex life that revealed what she'd been missing. She was embarrassingly eager to have sex again with Viktor.

Viktor arrived at her door at six. Hermione wore jeans as usual, but with a green silk blouse Ginny had helped her buy. It was tighter than any of her other tops, drawing attention to her figure in a way that embarrassed and aroused her simultaneously. Based on the way Viktor looked at her when he saw it, it was producing the desired effect.

He gave her a kiss. "Hey, Hermione. You look nice."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. You too." They stood looking at one another for a moment. "So," Hermione said to break the silence. "What's the plan for tonight?"

"Dinner and a movie," Viktor said. "Italian?"

"Great," Hermione said. Not that she knew anything about Italian food aside from spaghetti. She grabbed a jacket from the foot of her bed. "I'm out of here," she called to Ginny, who was primping in the bathroom for her own date.

Ginny popped her head out, grinning broadly. "You kids have fun! I've got the room tonight, right?"

"Right," Hermione said, glancing at Viktor. He nodded. "Later!" Hermione said.

Afterwards she couldn't have said much about the meal—and even less about the movie. It was some kind of spy thriller, but she was too absorbed in anticipating sex later that evening to pay attention to it. She leaned into Viktor when he put his arm around her, and rested her hand on his thigh. She caressed him through the denim of his own jeans. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. She raised her head to look at him, inviting another kiss, which he gave her.

Very shortly they were seriously making out, the movie forgotten. They kissed intently, breathing through their noses, desperate for one another. She caressed him more firmly, stroking his thigh higher until she discovered his erection. Viktor stroked the side of her face, then dropped a hand to cup her breast. Hermione was excited to know that he could feel her erect nipple through her bra and blouse. In another minute, he was fondling her bare breast through the open front of her blouse and Hermione shocked herself by fumbling with the zipper of his jean.

Viktor broke the kiss . "Let's go back to my room," he whispered.

"God, yes," Hermione said.

Hermione felt certain everyone in the lobby and corridors of Viktor's dorm knew why she was there, that they were all aware of how she'd hastily fumbled her clothes back on for the walk from the theater. She kept her head up, though, resisting the urge to hunch her shoulders guiltily. She had nothing to feel guilty about. That was just her upbringing talking.

A knot of residents were standing in the hallway conversing loudly. They greeted Viktor equally loudly. He nodded and replied. Viktor greeted them as he stopped in front of a door and fished in his pocket. "So, who's your friend?" one of them asked, eyeing Hermione. She avoided his gaze.

"Hermione, this is the peanut gallery. Peanut gallery, this is Hermione," Viktor said.

"Hi, Hermione!" they chorused. Hermione gave a little wave to them all, feeling her cheeks flush. Viktor pushed the door open.

"So is she your girlfriend?" another guy asked.

"See you later, guys," Viktor said, steering Hermione into the room. A desk lamp provided the only light, leaving the room cloaked in shadows. He closed the door on a barrage of questions. It rose to a crescendo, then faded quickly. Hermione drew a deep breath and let it out, wriggling her shoulders to dispel the tension which had settled there.

"Don't pay any attention to those guys," Viktor said from behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple.

Hermione leaned into his embrace. "I won't."

His kisses wandered down to her ear. He nipped at her earlobe and she shivered. Viktor turned her to face him. She reached up with both hands to pull him down into a hungry open-mouthed kiss. He returned it eagerly, grabbing her ass with both hands and pulling her hard up against him. There was no missing his hard cock.

Hermione leaned back, breaking the kiss, and began hastily unbuttoning her blouse. Viktor took the hint, released her and began undressing. In less than a minute they were naked. Mingled arousal and nervousness tightened Hermione's skin and quickened her breathing as she studied her lover in the dim light. He was just as she remembered him. He stood motionless save for his eyes, which studied her avidly.

She wasn't sure which of them moved first. They were wrapped up in one another all at once, mouths moving over lips, cheeks, necks, desperate to taste one another; his hands found her breasts and teased her nipples into rigid peaks. Her own hands kneaded his buttocks, studied the shape of his hipbones—and oh god but they were sexy under her fingertips—and found their way to his cock and balls, taking the measure of him and drawing out breathy sounds of pleasure.

He steered her toward a bed. His bed. She stumbled once, over a pile of discarded clothing. The room was more cluttered than the one she shared with Ginny. Viktor directed her to sit on the edge of the bed. He knelt at her feet and leaned to take a breast into his mouth.

"Ohhh," Hermione moaned. He kissed and licked and suckled at her nipple, fondling the other with one hand. The pleasurable sensations sparked a response between her legs. She wanted his touch there as well.

As if he'd sensed her desire, his other hand touched her knees. She sat with her knees demurely together from sheer habit, her nudity and wanton behavior notwithstanding. He slid his hand between her knees, nudging them apart, urging her to spread her legs wider. Wider still.

She felt his mouth move away from her breast. "Lie back," he instructed her.

Hermione's breath caught for an instant. She knew what he intended, knew what pleasure it offered, and she wanted it. Wanted it desperately. She leaned back on her elbows until the back of her head touched the wall. It was a narrow bed. She turned to sprawl at an angle across it, lying flat. She spread her legs wider still, one along the edge of the bed, the other foot on the floor, offering herself up, eager for the touch of his tongue.

Viktor kissed her inner thighs, the touch of his lips sending sparks along her nerves. He lifted her leg to rest on his shoulder as he leaned in close. She felt his breath on her vulva, stirring the hairs gently. He kissed her there, then again on her inner thighs. She heard him inhale, taking in her scent. It turned her on, knowing that he liked it.

This wasn't like last time. She wasn't anxious about whether he could smell her arousal, or whether he liked it. She knew he did. She felt more relaxed, despite lying in a stranger's bed in a strange room. She was excited and eager and, yes, a little anxious still. But she knew what to expect now and she wanted it. She was eager and aroused and wet and wanting.

Viktor's mouth gave her great pleasure. His lips and tongue caressed and teased and licked and stroked her with greater skill than he had shown before. He too had learned from their first night together. He knew better how to arouse her, when to press his attack and when to back off a little. She tried watching him at first, but it involved holding her head up, which was tiring and distracting. She chose instead to relax and close her eyes, the better to focus on the feel of his mouth on her.  
The delicious tension spread upwards to her belly and down into her thighs. Hermione's breathing quickened and deepened as the pleasure grew. She felt herself ascending steadily but inexorably toward a peak, like riding a roller coaster up that first long incline. The tension grew, knotting deep in her belly, drawing her thighs bowstring tight.

She reached the crest—and tumbled over it into orgasm. Hermione cried out, her whole body curling around the unbearable pleasure Viktor gave her. It went on, waves of pleasure racing through her body until she didn't think she could endure it any longer. She sagged back to lie on the bed, body limp, thinking it was over.

Viktor had other ideas. His hands curled over her thighs, holding her in place as he used his lips and tongue to start her climbing toward another peak. It was too much. Too soon. Hermione wriggled, trying to pull away. Viktor's hands pressed more firmly into her thighs. Hermione gasped and slapped ineffectually at the blanket beneath her—but she stopped struggling as the sensations changed from too much to more.

She was rapidly approaching another peak. She was going to come again, and just that suddenly she wanted it badly. There was nothing subtle about Viktor's actions now, nothing gentle, and that was exactly what she wanted. What she needed.

Hermione came again, an explosive orgasm that blotted out everything else. When it was over, she lay slack and panting on Viktor's bed, breathing heavily, the muscles of her thighs quivering. She felt Viktor carefully lower the leg on his shoulder before he joined her on the bed. His cheeks and chin glistened in the light from the desk lamp. He dripped with her juices. And he grinned at her.

"Wow," he said. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you enjoyed that."

Hermione grinned lazily back at him. That was the only way she could do anything at the moment. She could barely muster the energy to reply. "I'm pretty sure I did."

Viktor cocked an eyebrow. "Only pretty sure?"

"Okay," she agreed. "I'm very sure I did."

"Yeah," he said. "You got kinda loud."

She shrugged. The thought should have alarmed her. It didn't. She was too tired, too satisfied to care. Maybe later she'd worry about it. Maybe not, too.

He kissed her. She kissed him back, opening her mouth to him, eager to taste him, to taste herself on his lips and tongue. It turned her on, as it had before, to smell and taste herself on her lover's skin. The tangible evidence of her arousal, and of his intimate acquaintance with her, rekindled her desire.

She was still limp, still feeling the minute tremors in muscles still recovering from the tension and pleasure she'd experienced, but she wanted more. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, wanted him inside her. She spoke the words aloud before she thought to censor herself, mumbling through the kiss. "I want you."

She felt Viktor's smile before his lips retreated. "Good. I want you too."

He looked around, frowned, and climbed off the bed to rummage through his desk drawer. He raised a strip of condom packets victoriously. "Aha!"

Hermione wriggled into the center of his bed, feeling like a wanton woman. Here she was, lying naked in a man's bed, spreading her legs in anticipation of getting fucked. Again. The thought added to her arousal—as did watching Viktor. He stood by the bed now, struggling to open the packet, his cock standing at attention.

That was her doing. She reached up to wrap her hand around it, feeling possessive. Viktor got the package open. She let him go so he could roll the condom into place. He climbed onto the bed and moved into position. He put his weight on his knees and elbows, his body but not his weight resting against hers.

He kissed her again, then nuzzled his way to her ear. His breath was hot and tickled a little, the shiver it produced turned into a whole body quiver of anticipation. "Ready?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she replied.

She felt his cock brush against her skin once, twice—and then settle between her labia. He hesitated for an instant, then drove himself inside her. Hermione groaned aloud, thrilled by the sensation of penetration. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and pulled him closer with one hand on the small of his back. The other clasped the back of Viktor's head, holding him in place. "Don't move," she whispered. "Not yet."

Viktor remained obediently still and silent. Hermione sighed, trying to fix this moment in her memory. It was so exciting, so novel still. She lay naked with a lover, their bodies pressed together, his cock inside her. It felt so good already and it was only going to get better! She loved this feeling, this moment, loved the anticipation. In that moment she understood Ginny better than she ever had before. This—this was what Ginny lived for, this pursuit of pleasure. Hermione felt giddy with delight.

"You okay?" Viktor whispered.

"I'm great," Hermione said. "Fuck me, Viktor. Fuck me hard."

He did as she asked. It was better than she'd hoped. The weight of his belly against hers, the slippery friction of his cock thrusting, thrusting, thrusting—Hermione moaned aloud, riding the rising tide of pleasure. Viktor kept up a steady rhythm at first, the bed rocking with each snap of his hips, his breathing deep and steady. The frame squeaked as he fucked her.

It felt so good, so fucking good—Hermione loved what he was doing to her, loved how he made her feel. It was only a matter of time now before she came, the glorious feeling of Viktor's cock moving inside her, the weight his body, the trembling tension building toward a crescendo, it was good, so good—"So fucking good," she heard someone say, and realized with a shock that it was her!

She was speaking aloud, the running commentary in her thoughts spilling from her lips as her control slipped. "I'm gonna come, Viktor, I'm gonna come. It feels so good, so so good. I love it, I love your cock, love it, don't stop—don't...it feels so good, I'm gonna—I'm gonna—" She was babbling, unable to stop, caught up in a rising wave of pleasure, vast and unstoppable. It rushed forward faster, bouying her up higher and higher until it crested and she screamed and laughed through the tumbling, disorienting loss of control the ecstacy brought.

When she could think again, she realized Viktor was still fucking her vigorously. The bed rocked with every thrust of his hips, the metal bedframe protesting more loudly than ever, now banging the wall as well. He was breathing hard, sweating and flushed. Hermione knew he had reached the end of his endurance.

One stroke more. Two, three—and he buried himself inside her, motionless save for the throbbing of his cock and the quivering tension that held his body rigid. The tension leached away and he would have moved off of her, but Hermione wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him down to lie on top of her. "Not yet," she said.

"I'm not too heavy?" he asked.

"I can take it for a minute," Hermione said. She kissed him. "Just relax. You worked hard. Enjoy it."

Viktor's slow smile took her breath away. That smile, his tousled hair, and the sleepy eyes of a thoroughly sated man combined to make him incredibly sexy. It made her want to fuck him again right away. "Oh, I did," he said. "And so did you."

"I did," Hermione said primly.

"I could tell. You were...talkative tonight," Viktor said.

Hermione glanced away, reminded of her running commentary, and wondering where it had come from. And—she looked back at Viktor. "Did you like it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it was hot. But kinda surprising."

"It surprised me too," Hermione admitted. She squirmed a bit. His weight was beginning to be an issue.

Viktor took his weight on one arm, reached down to hold the condom in place, then pulled out. He pushed up to a kneeling position between her legs, then climbed off the bed. "Back in a sec," he said, before vanishing into the bathroom.

Hermione sat up, feeling a little sweaty and sticky herself, and all too aware of the wet spot they'd created on the sheet. She shuddered abruptly, seized by a brief echo of the pleasure she'd just experienced, like an aftershock following an earthquake. She'd never felt that before. Was it normal? Did it happen to Ginny? Her thoughts threatened to fixate on the question.

She dragged her attention away from the subject by studying the room. Harry's bed was empty, of course. He was busy with Ginny back in her room. The room was more cluttered by far than hers and Ginny's, with clothing, books, and personal effects scattered around. Cluttered, she was pleased to see, but not dirty. No empty bottles, cups, or plates lying around.

She stood to walk over and examine the textbooks on Viktor's desk. Typical freshman texts, mostly, but also Calculus and Physics books. She opened the math book and flipped through it. The diagrams were inscrutable, the text worse. It might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. It was all far beyond her mediocre mathematical abilities.

"God, you're hot."

Hermione's head snapped up. Viktor was standing in the bathroom doorway watching her, a hungry gleam in his eyes. The desire she saw there made heat bloom deep in her belly. She ducked her head even as she smiled, deeply pleased by the compliment.

"You're always cute," Viktor said, crossing the room to join her. "But watching you standing here naked, focused on something else, not thinking about the fact that you're naked—you're smoking hot."

Hermione didn't know how to react to that. Her first reaction was to downplay it, to reject the compliment. It felt wrong to accept the compliment. Selfish, maybe, or vain. It didn't mesh with her self-image. How could he find a gawky, skinny, painfully shy girl hot?

You've got a nice body. It's time you let the world see it. Ginny's words drifted up from memory. Maybe her self-image needed updating. She was already working on changing how she dressed, and how she behaved. Probably time to try to change her self-image too.

"Thanks," she said. She noticed the folded towel he carried. "What's that?"

"Ah," Viktor said. He demonstrated, spreading the towel on the bed, covering the wet spot. He stretched out on it on his side and extended a hand for Hermione to join him.

"Good thinking," Hermione said.

She settled into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. They weren't done yet, she knew. It wouldn't take Viktor long to get his second wind. She looked forward to it. Until then, they could snuggle and talk quietly. He asked what she'd been looking at, and she told him, which led to comparing their educational backgrounds, and more discussion of the differences between growing up in New York as opposed to a one-horse town in rural Virginia.

Despite the unsexy topic, Hermione was keenly aware of the gathering storm. She idly caressed Viktor all over as they talked, and didn't miss it when his cock eventually responded by growing larger and harder. He had been caressing her as well, and the heat gathering deep in her belly demanded attention, distracting her from the conversation. She interrupted him mid-sentence with a sudden kiss.

He returned it with interest, pulling her closer with the arm around her shoulders. She slid a hand along his belly, through his pubic hair, to wrap around his cock and stroke it. He groaned into her mouth, never breaking the kiss. He pressed his hips toward her, silently urging her to continue. She did, marveling at how quickly he became completely erect. Viktor's free hand found her wet and open, and then it was her turn to turn her hips and spread her legs, eager to feel him penetrate her with his fingers.

Hermione was more than ready to have something more substantial inside her by the time they broke the kiss to give one another a look that said it was time to fuck again. "Let's try something different," Viktor said. "Get on your hands and knees?"

It was a request, and Hermione complied, eager to experience something new. She had a moment of doubt when she wondered if he wanted to try anal. That wasn't something she was interesting in trying. Not now, maybe not ever. Fortunately that wasn't what he had in mind.

Five minutes later Viktor knelt between her legs, gripping her hips with both hands, fucking her doggy-style. It wasn't an entirely comfortable position; it allowed him to drive deeper than missionary, occasionally too deep for her liking. After the first couple of times it happened, Viktor backed off a little and Hermione enjoyed it a lot more.

She clung to the footrail of his bed, bracing herself against his driving hips. The headboard slammed against the wall with every frantic thrust of his hips, announcing to the world—or at least to his neighbors—that he was having sex in this room. The thought that his neighbors could hear them both embarrassed her and aroused her. That guilty excitement added fuel to the fire, and propelled her to orgasm.

The ebbing pleasure when it was over stole away her strength. She dropped to her elbows, forehead resting on the mattress, vision obscured by her fallen hair. Viktor's hands tightened on her hips and he groaned loudly, buried to his balls inside her, coming hard. Hermione rocked against him and wiggled her hips, pleased to evoke a gasp from him before the tension ran out of his body and they both collapsed onto the bed.

They had sex again a couple of hours later. She lavished a blowjob on him and he licked her to orgasm before they fucked again. Missionary again, this time, and much more to Hermione's liking. Doggy made for some interesting sensations, but nothing compared to having sex face to face, with a lover's weight on her belly and his mouth on her mouth, cheeks, neck and ears. When they'd both recovered from their exertions, it was late. Hermione fell asleep with Viktor curled around her, a warm, comforting presence at her back.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione jerked awake, disoriented and alarmed. It took a moment to identify what had disturbed her. Drunken revelers in the hallway outside Viktor's room. The voices moved down the hall away from his door. A door slammed, then another. Silence reigned once more.

She settled back onto her side. Viktor was stretched out behind her, one arm draped over her waist. The noises hadn't awakened him. He must be used to them. She tried to relax into sleep again, but she was thirsty and her bladder was full.

She slipped out of bed without waking Viktor and stood dithering for a moment. The room was dark, but the LEDs in clocks and other electronic devices provided enough illumination to navigate. She knew Viktor's roommate was out, but the bathroom was a shared one with the guys in the next room. Should she get dressed just to use the bathroom? Could she even find her clothes without turning on the light?

Screw it. She crept to the door of the bathroom. The room was dark when she opened the door, though light showed in a strip beneath the opposite door. She closed the door behind her as silently as possible, then turned on the light. An enclosed toilet stall at this end of the room and a curtained shower cubicle at the other bracketed two sinks on the wall between them. She felt her lip curl as she took in the state of the room and wished she had slippers on. It wasn't awful but their standards of cleanliness were nothing like hers and Ginny's.

Well, she'd just be quick. She was grateful for the enclosed toilet. She latched the door and made use of the toilet. She'd just flushed and was reaching for the door when she heard a door open. She froze. A moment later, someone tried the toilet door. Should she say something?

"Viktor, that you, buddy? You dog!"

Hermione closed her eyes, wishing she were anywhere but here. But he wasn't done.

"Dude, seriously—where did you find that girl? Every time I thought you were done, your bed started banging the wall again! She must be one hot fuck!"

He wasn't going to stop. Not unless she stopped him.

"I guess I must be," she said.

Silence. Then, "Well, this is awkward."

"Yeah."

"I'll just...give you the room." Footsteps retreated and the door closed. Hermione waited for a moment, then opened the cubicle door. She washed her hands acutely aware the whole time that she was naked, with a stranger just on the other side of the door. She glanced at the mirror just once. Her hair was in serious disarray, what Ginny called that just-fucked look.

Hermione dried her hands on the cleanest towel she could find, then fled the bathroom.

She snuggled up to Viktor. He caressed her thigh before wrapping an arm around her waist again. When he spoke, he sounded half-asleep. "Did I hear you talking to someone?"

"Nobody important."

He made a noncommital sound. His hand moved up to cup her breast. He kissed the point of her shoulder, then nuzzled her neck. His caresses became more focused—and more effective. Hermione turned to lie on her back, making it easier for him to fondle her, and easier for her to stroke his cock. She felt him responding. She met his gaze. "Again?"

"Yeah. If you're up for it."

"Sure," she said. "Apparently I'm a hot fuck."

"What?"

Hermione shook her head. "Never mind," she said, before kissing him.

Hermione returned to her own room about eight a.m. Ginny was asleep on her bed, alone. She stirred briefly when Hermione entered the room, but didn't wake. Hermione's eyes burned with the need for more sleep but she took time for a very brief shower and brushed her teeth before she fell into bed with damp hair.

She woke again to the scent of a toasted bagel. Ginny sat at her desk spreading a shmear on the bagel. She noticed Hermione. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her alarm clock read 11:12. "No, it's okay. I need to get up. Sleeping til noon on the weekends just fucks up my schedule." The curse word caught her by surprise. She'd have to watch that. Her mother would have a fit if she spoke like that at home. That was another habit she didn't want to cultivate.

"So," Ginny said, "how was your date?"

Hermione smiled broadly. "It was great. How was yours?"

"Also great." Ginny ate a bite of her bagel. "What did you do?"

Hermione sat up. "We had dinner and then went to a movie. Then we went back to his room and had sex."

"Was it as much fun as last time?"

"Yeah. Mostly." At Ginny's questioning look, Hermione sighed. "We tried a new position. Doggy. I'm not sure I like it." She sat up in bed, legs crossed tailor fashion. She told Ginny about the experience, marveling inwardly at how easily she shared her thoughts and feelings with Ginny. She'd never been this open with anyone in her life. She liked it, liked being able to confide in Ginny, but it was still a new experience.

"Well, everyone has preferences," Ginny said. "You're not obligated to do it again if you don't want to."

"I know. I just...." Hermione caught herself trailing off. Recently she'd realized she did that a lot. Leaving things unsaid, things she didn't want to speak aloud, or didn't want to face.

"You just?" Ginny prompted.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. I'm not sorry we did it. But I'm not sure I'll want to do it again."

"Even if you don't, it's not like he's gonna stop sleeping with you over it," Ginny said.

"You think?" Hermione hated the eagerness for validation she heard in her voice.

"I do," Ginny said. "But even if he does, it's not like there aren't plenty of fish in the sea."

Hermione studied the pattern on her comforter. "Maybe. But I wouldn't know how to find them. I didn't exactly burn up the dating scene back home. Or here, for that matter." She looked up at Ginny. "I mean, I didn't pick Viktor and he didn't pick me. You set us up."

"And I was glad to do it. I'm happy to help you get your feet wet." Her teeth appeared in a brief, broad smile. "So to speak," she added. "But you're gonna have to learn to find your own playmates eventually."

The thought alarmed Hermione. She'd had very few dates in high school. Two or three one-off dates before she'd started dating Cormac- and she'd dated Cormac mostly because he was the only one who asked her out more than once. She'd tried once or twice to drop hints to guys she liked, and those occasions were memorable only as failures. Opening herself up enough to admit that she had feelings for someone was all but impossible. The thought that someone might know how she felt, that they could use that against her, terrified her.

Which, really, suggested some serious trust issues. Maybe Ginny was right about her family relationships being less wholesome than she'd always believed.

"Hey," Ginny said, breaking into Hermione's thoughts. "Don't disapparate on me."

"What?"

Ginny shook her head, smiling to herself. "Weasley joke. Never mind." She put down her bagel and came to sit beside Hermione, taking her hand as she did. The casual touch startled Hermione.

"Wow," Ginny said. She gestured at their clasped hands. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Sure. I just...." Dammit, I'm doing it again. "I'm not used to this, is all," she said.

"I can tell." Ginny pursed her lips for a moment, but whatever she was thinking she kept to herself. She drew and let out a breath. "Look, you can't change the past. If you were a wallflower in high school, that's never going to change. But you can do things differently now."

"You already have," Ginny continued. "In case it has escaped your attention, you have a lover now."

Hermione's cheeks warmed at Ginny's blunt words. But she grinned too. She did have a lover. The warmth in her face was joined by a warm sensation in her belly, a sense memory of the feel of Viktor's body against hers and the abrupt desire to feel it again. "Yeah," she said. "I do."

"And you can have more," Ginny said. "If you want them. Or you can continue to see Viktor alone. It's up to you."

Hermione wondered if her eyes looked as big and round to Ginny as they felt. The way Ginny's smile morphed into a laugh told her that they did. "Oh my, you should see your face," Ginny told her. "You looked shocked and embarrassed and greedy all at once. No," she added sharply, catching Hermione's attention as firmly as if she'd reached out and grabbed her face.

"No," she repeated, "don't pretend. Don't hide from yourself. Shocked? Yeah, I get it. This is a big change for you. Embarrassed? I get that too. Talking about—or even thinking about—such intimate things is hard for you. But greedy?"

She leaned forward. "That's understandable too. I understand exactly what you're feeling."

Do you? Hermione wondered. A heartbeat, then, "Do you?" The words were barely audible, but she spoke them aloud.

"Of course I do," Hermione assured her. "More to the point, I think you understand me a lot better than you did after the first time you caught me in bed with a guy. Don't you?"

She did. She recalled clearly just how shocked she'd been when she walked in on Ginny in bed with...some guy. She realized she'd never heard his name. Not that it mattered, she hadn't seen him again. That didn't mean Ginny hadn't slept with him again, but not when Hermione was around. It had been a deeply embarrassing event for Hermione, walking in on them like that. And the conversation afterward, when Ginny explained her approach to sex. Quite aside from whatever moral qualms—admittedly slight—Hermione had about it, or the practicalities of finding guys to sleep with, she hadn't understood why Ginny pursued sex with such determination. Because it felt good, yes, of course. Hermione understood the theory.

But the gulf in experience between Hermione at the start of the term and Hermione today was almost impossible to describe. She knew now what Ginny had known then, and she knew she wanted to experience all that pleasure as often as she possibly could. The idea that she could have lovers plural made her giddy. It was frightening and arousing all at once. She hadn't considered the possibility before; she'd been too consumed with anxiety about getting together with Viktor, and then with the desire to repeat the experience with him.

Now that Ginny had directed her attention to the idea, she knew she would pursue it. She wanted more sex. She wanted to have sex with Viktor again. And she wanted to try it with other guys. Different guys.

"Yeah, I do," Hermione said. "I get it now. I didn't before."

Ginny nodded. "I know. I was really afraid at first that you were going to be a real prude about it."

Hermione's mouth dropped open for a moment. "You were?" She'd had no idea.

Ginny looked sheepish. "Yeah. You were so shocked when you caught me the first time. I was expecting you to read me the riot act afterward, or call me a slut or tell me I was going to hell. But you didn't."

"Of course not." Even if she had felt that way, it wasn't something she'd have said.

Ginny took Hermione's hand in hers. "I know that—now. I didn't know you then. After I learned you'd watched me with Harry and you'd liked it, then I knew you were a girl after my own heart."

Hermione felt her face heat but fought the urge to look away from Ginny. "Yeah." She wanted to say more but felt the words jam up in her throat. Ginny remained silent, patiently waiting. Hermione knew what she wanted to say, but the words stubbornly refused to come to her.

Ginny continued to wait. Hermione looked at her. Looked away. Opened her mouth, then closed it again, defeated. She knew Ginny must be getting impatient with her continued silence. She had to be. But her expression remained unchanged, a faint smile of understanding and endless patience.

Hermione licked her lips. "Yeah," she said again. "I am. A girl after your own heart."

Ginny acknowledged her words with a nod, but said nothing.

"I'm—I'm very glad you're my roommate," Hermione added. "I tried to get a new roommate, did you know that?" Ginny shook her head. "I did. But there were none to be had, so I had to stay here. I'm glad I did. I had no idea what I was missing."

"But now you do?"

Hermione grinned. "Now I do. And I want more. Lots more."


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione got a lot more sex over the next three weeks. She didn't get laid every time she wanted it, though she managed two or three times a week. Practicalities like finding a room vacant or arranging for Ginny or Viktor's roommate, Harry, to give them some privacy had to be dealt with. Ginny was good about vacating the room, at least when she wasn't planning on entertaining her own lover there.

Harry was also accommodating. More than once Hermione stood by, blushing, as Harry gathered his things and departed for the library or elsewhere for a few hours. He never seemed put out by it, though once or twice he politely but firmly refused. It embarrassed Hermione to know that Harry knew he was leaving so that Viktor could have sex with Hermione, but it also excited her. And sometimes Harry and Ginny took advantage of Hermione's absence to make their own fun.

She was pretty sure most of Viktor's neighbors knew as well. None of them said said anything to her about it, but the knowing looks she got a few times, and some overheard comments made it plain: they knew. And to be honest, that excited her as well. Ginny wasn't the only one with an exhibitionist kink.

Now she stood knocking at Viktor's door again with no response. It was about five on Friday afternoon and the dorm hallways were mostly deserted. She concluded that he wasn't home when the door to her right opened and a guy stuck his head out. "Viktor's not here," he said. He was slender, with sleek white-blonde hair and sharp features. "He went home for the weekend."

"Right," Hermione said, feeling a hollow disappointment. Now that he'd mentioned it she remembered Viktor telling her he was going to be away this weekend. Some kind of family event. "I remember now."

The guy stepped out of his room. He was pale, maybe even paler than Ginny. He wasn’t nearly as muscular as Viktor, but his lean physique wasn’t pure bone. There was hidden musculature. Something about him made her think of a ferret before she chided herself for such a rude thought. He was attractive. He held an open paperback book in one hand, his index finger marking his place.

He presented his free hand. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he said. His grip, when she took his hand, was strong.

"I'm Hermione."

"Viktor's girlfriend?"

Hermione wasn't sure how to answer that. She hesitated, then said, "Sort of, I guess."

Was it her imagination or did Draco's attention become more focused? She got the impression he was really seeing her for the first time as a person, not just an interruption. He let the paperback fall closed.

"Sorry. That wasn't a trick question," Draco said. "Friend of his, anyhow?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Yeah, I am." She chewed her lip for a moment, then added, "I guess I'll be going." She'd been hoping to make love with Viktor. Now she had nothing to look forward to all weekend.

"You sure about that?" Draco asked. He glanced into his room. "It's about to come down in buckets out there." He gestured for her to come look.

Hermione closed the distance until she could see through the doorway of his room. Through the window she could see dark clouds piling up, and tree limbs waving in the rising wind as the light faded. It had looked like rain on the walk over here, but Draco was right. It was about to pour.

"Come on in and sit down," Draco suggested. "I've got fire whiskey. You can wait out the storm in comfort or get soaked running back to your dorm."

"Well," Hermione said, "when you put it like that...."

"Great," Draco said. He entered the room ahead of her. He put the book down on a desk, grabbed a couple of discarded pieces of clothing and tossed them into a hamper, then pulled the chairs away from the desks on opposite walls of the room and placed them together. "Have a seat."

Hermione sat. She unslung her backpack and placed it on the floor by her feet. The room was fairly tidy, now that the dirty clothes were put away. It had a distinct scent she didn't recognize but liked. There was an incense burner on one of the desks, presumably the source of the scent.

Draco knelt in front of a tiny fridge.

"I don't drink whiskey," Hermione said abruptly.

Draco shrugged and opened the fridge. "How about a butterbeer?"

"Yes, please," Hermione said.

Draco rose with a butterbeer in each hand, pushed the fridge door closed with his foot and offered Hermione one of the cans. He sat down beside her, popping his own drink open.

"No fire whiskey?" Hermione asked, teasing just a little.

Draco shook his head. "I don't drink alone." He raised his can. "Cheers!"

Hermione tapped her can against his. "Cheers."

"So," Draco said after a sip. "How do you know Viktor?"

"My roommate introduced us. How do you—never mind," Hermione said, shaking her head at her own slowwittedness.

Draco smiled. "Luck of the draw. He's pretty good suite mate, fortunately. All of the guys are, really."

"Suite mate?" Hermione asked. She glanced at the door to the bathroom, realizing that this room shared the bathroom with Viktor's room. She looked at Draco again, sharply, wondering. Was it he she'd spoken to in the bathroom, the neighbor who had been so impressed by the noises from Viktor's room?

His face gave nothing away. Noting her scrutiny, he said, "What is it?"

Hermione wanted to ask him. Did you call me a hot fuck? But what if it wasn't him? It would be embarrassing to bring it up if he wasn't the guy. It would be embarrassing if he was the guy, for that matter. She shook her head. "Nothing."

Draco shrugged and took a drink. "So what classes are you taking, Hermione?"

She grabbed that conversational life jacket with both hands, happy to talk about something innocuous. She described her schedule, and asked about his. They compared their choices, and their experiences as freshmen.

The light in the window faded until it almost as dark as night. Thunder muttered in the distance, followed by the first patter of rain on the window. It abruptly turned into a heavy downpour and the thunder got loud enough to rattle the window.

Hermione turned her head to watch the storm occasionally. "I love thunderstorms," she said.

"Yeah?"

When she looked back at Draco, he was little more than a silhouette. She hadn't realized how dark it was in his room with the storm at its peak. "Yeah," she said. "I was scared of them when I was little, but my dad took me out on the porch one night and held me while we watched the rain and the lightning. It was scary still, but I liked it. I love them now."

She shivered. The storm had cooled things down.

"Cold?" Draco asked. He didn't wait for an answer. He moved his chair closer and draped an arm around her shoulders.

It wasn't a particularly subtle move. Hermione felt a stirring of anxiety. Did she want him to hit on her? He seemed nice enough, but was that enough? She'd come here hoping to have sex with Viktor. He wasn't around, but Draco was and he was clearly interested. Was she?

She didn't know yet, but he was warm and it did help. Hermione leaned into him a little, enjoying the warmth of his body. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem," Draco said. "That was cool, how your dad handled that."

Hermione nodded. "It was."

The conversation slowed down. They kept to safe topics, exchanging sentences at longer and longer intervals. The storm reached its crescendo and began to lose strength as they talked. They snuggled closer, becoming more intimate. Hermione watched the storm outside while she wrestled with her feelings.

She was horny. She had no doubt that she could have sex with Draco if she wanted. But what about Viktor? They hadn't said anything about being exclusive. But they hadn't said anything about not being exclusive. She wondered how that excuse would fly with Viktor.

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked.

Hermione felt her throat close up, all the words she could say piling up in a logjam, choking her into silence. It was a familiar sensation, but one that she had recently grown to hate. She licked her lips, chewed her lip for a moment. Cleared her throat. Stalling tactics, all, drawing out the hated silence. Say it, she told herself. Just say it!

"S-sex," she said. "I'm thinking about sex."

"Yeah?" Draco asked. He studied her face closely. His teeth flashed in a grin. "Pro or con?"

Hermione laughed. "Pro. Definitely pro."

"That's good to know," Draco said. He leaned in to kiss her. His lips brushed hers, retreated slightly, then met hers again more firmly. Hermione leaned into the kiss, wanting it, wanting more. She let her tongue tip caress his lips, then move deeper. He returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

Hermione found herself pulled into his arms and kissed very thoroughly. Her heart raced and butterflies danced in her belly, a familiar mingling of anxiety and arousal. The thought that she might very soon be having sex again—and with a stranger at that—was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. Her desire for pleasure wrestled with the conventions she'd been raised to observe, summoning up the disapproving looks and whispered words she'd witnessed many times. Slut. The word ricocheted through her thoughts, dimming her pleasure in the moment.

For an instant she saw herself the way she knew her home town would have. She'd already fallen, sinning with Viktor, succumbing to lust. Now she was about to tumble into bed with another stranger! An acquaintance if not a friend of Viktor's, no less. Shameless.

Draco trailed kisses along her cheek to nuzzle her neck and nip at her earlobe. The sensation of his breath against her skin, the brush of his lips and tongue, the way his teeth skirted the boundary between pleasure and pain touched something deep inside her. She shuddered with renewed arousal.

He cupped her breast in his hand, caressing her, his thumb stroking her nipple through her clothing. She responded, her nipples hardening. His touch was confident, certain that she would enjoy it—not the tentative, furtive touches she'd experienced with Cormac. Draco knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to show it; more, he knew what she wanted.

That turned her on more than she could express. Her desire roared back to life, drowning her doubts along with the voices counseling caution and restraint. She'd come here to get laid and she was going to get laid. Viktor wasn't here, but Draco was. He was attractive, he was definitely interested, and she was confident he could give her the fucking she wanted.

She used her mouth on his earlobe and neck and grinned when she heard him catch his breath. She captured his mouth and resumed the long, deep kisses she enjoyed. She grabbed at the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling it free of his jeans. His belly was warm, hard muscled. Her fingers slid upwards beneath his shirt to find and toy with a nipple.

Draco drew another audible breath. "Oh yeah?" he whispered.

A moment later his hand was beneath her t-shirt, pushing her bra up out of the way as he fondled her breasts, brushing her erect nipples with the palm of his hand. He pulled away from her kisses long enough to brush his cheek against hers before nibbling on her earlobe. Hermione shivered, her questing hand going still.

Draco leaned down to take Hermione's nipple into his mouth. The suction of his lips and the flickering touch of his tongue sent thrills through her body. "Oh god," Hermione muttered. She arched her back, offering herself to him, wanting him to continue. He gave her what she wanted for another few moments, then straightened up again.

Hermione opened her eyes to see him watching her, a pleased smile on his face. He enjoyed the effect he was having on her. Well, she was enjoying it too. But she wanted more.

She rose from her chair to pivot on one foot and straddle Draco's lap, holding his gaze. She wanted him to see just how aroused she was now. She peeled her t-shirt off, then her bra. She groped for his hands without breaking their gaze, found them, and pressed them against her breasts.

"Nice," Draco said, caressing her breasts.

"Glad you like them," Hermione replied.

"I do," Draco said, "but that's not what I meant. I like a girl who knows what she wants."

Hermione smiled. "I know exactly what I want."

She tugged at his shirt, pulling it free of his jeans, then up over his head and off. When his hands were free again, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a fierce embrace and an equally fierce kiss. He explored her lips and mouth aggressively.

Hermione rocked against him, enjoying the kiss, and excited by the feel of her bare breasts against his chest. The hard lump in his jeans rubbed against her Mons through her own jeans, adding to her excitement. She wanted to feel him against her with no barriers between them, wanted to feel him inside her.

She pulled away from the kiss. She fumbled with his belt for a moment, then got it unbuckled. By that time Draco was doing the same for her. They got as far as partially unzipping one another's jeans and it was obvious that they couldn't get any farther while she remained on his lap.

Hermione stood up, never breaking eye contact with Draco. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans and underwear and pushed them down to her ankles. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her jeans. Draco's gaze dropped to take in her nudity before he met her eyes again. His lips moved silently, but Hermione could make out the one word. Wow.

He kicked off his own shoes, then hastily removed his own jeans and underwear. Hermione gave him the same once-over he'd given her. He was thin, but still strong, though he lacked the exaggerated muscles of a bodybuilder. 

He was shaved, his cock and balls completely bare. His cock was hard. It wasn't particularly long, definitely not as long as Viktor's, but quite thick, and it looked none she'd ever seen before, the bulbous head covered by skin. She wondered what it felt like. 

"Your first uncut cock?"

Hermione glanced up, realized she'd been staring, and felt her cheeks grow hot. "Uncut?" she asked.

"Uncircumcised," Draco clarified.

"Uh, yeah," Hermione mumbled, cheeks flaming with embarrassment at her reaction. Now that he'd explained, it seemed obvious. She knew most guys in the US were circumcised. She'd just never really thought about it, and certainly hadn't run into an...uncut cock before. In her extensive experience.

"It's not a problem, is it?"

Draco's question startled her. "Why would it be a problem?"

Draco shrugged, but she suspected the question meant more to him than she knew. "No," Hermione said, meaning it. She wanted to fuck him. He should know that. But maybe she should show him.

She resumed her seat again. His cock nestled into her pubic hair as she settled onto his lap. She pressed her body against his, grinding her Mons against his erection. "It's not a problem. I want you to fuck me."

Her heart was thudding in her breast. Her hands would be trembling with mingled nervousness and excitement if they weren't pressed against Draco's face as she kissed him. His hands roamed her body as they kissed, his touch inflaming her senses. She felt incredibly bold and sexy, and desperately eager to have sex with him.

Draco twisted his mouth away from hers. "Arms around my neck," he whispered.

Without waiting for a reply, Draco's hands clasped her buttocks. He leaned forward, then stood. Hermione gasped in surprise and alarm, flinging her arms around his neck. As an afterthought, she wrapped her legs around his hips as well.

She needn't have worried. He supported her weight with no apparent effort as he moved around the room. It was only when he approached the open door of his room that Hermione realized she hadn't given a moment's thought to the open door of his room. She'd stripped naked and rubbed herself against Draco when anyone passing by could have seen her. It embarrassed her, but not nearly as much as it aroused her to imagine witnesses to her wantonness.

Draco supported her weight with one hand long enough to close and lock the door. Then he stopped at his desk long enough to start some music playing on his laptop. Finally he took the few steps to the side of his bed. He leaned over to lower her onto the center of the bed with the same casual strength.

She leaned back on her elbows, legs spread, watching him. She imagined him throwing himself on her, fucking her hard and fast. The thought sent her pulse racing even faster. He didn't.

He settled onto the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her thoroughly. Fingertips glided up the inside of her thigh to find her wet and open and wanting. She groaned and clamped her thighs to hold his hand in place.

Draco chuckled. "Hold that thought, gorgeous." He pulled his hand free.

"Wh-what?" Hermione stumbled over the word, consumed by frustration. She couldn't remember ever being this desperate before. What was he doing?

Draco opened his bedside drawer and placed a box of condoms on the tabletop. It seemed to take forever for him to fish a package from the box, open it, and roll it onto his cock. Hermione reached for him making 'grabby hands' gestures. "Hurry up," she demanded.

Draco laughed and rolled into her arms with another kiss, propped on his elbows and knees, belly to belly. Hermione could feel his hard cock pinned between them, poised to penetrate her with only a little movement. She held him against her body, half afraid he'd find another excuse to delay.

"Don't you know it's not polite to leave a lady waiting?" Hermione said softly, looking into his eyes from only inches away.

"My apologies," Draco said. He moved against her, the blunt tip of his cock sliding over the slippery, open lips of her pussy once, twice before parting them. He pressed forward slowly, driving deeper.

His cock felt huge, thicker by far than any other she'd taken. For a terrible instant Hermione feared it was too big, that she wouldn't enjoy this at all. But only for an instant. In fact, the slippery friction as he drove relentlessly deeper felt better with every passing moment.

Draco groaned as he bottomed out, balls deep in her pussy. "God, you're tight," he murmured.

She thought it was more that he had a fat cock, but really—who cared? They were both happy with the result. It was nice to feel such a big cock inside her, but she wanted more. "Less talking," she suggested. "More fucking."

Draco took her at her word. He pulled back, the delicious sensation of that huge cock moving inside her pussy reigniting her desire. He drove back inside her, a little faster than before. Hermione moaned in pleasure, wrapping her arms more tightly around his torso, wanting him closer still. With every thrust, he fucked her a little faster, a little harder.

Her pleasure mounted rapidly. She felt stretched by his girth, but in a wonderful, pleasurable way. She clung to him, panting as the tension in her body wound higher. Her pants turned into whimpers as she neared her peak—and then she tumbled over the edge, lost in the bliss of her orgasm. It burned through her like fire and left her shaking afterward.

Draco paused in his efforts. Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips, rocking against him. "Don't stop," she demanded. Or maybe begged. "Please don't stop." Her orgasm had only whetted her desire. She was still powerfully aroused and knew from experience that she could come again easily.

She felt Draco's breath on her neck, and a sharp nip on her earlobe. The jolt of pain added to her excitement. "We're just getting started, baby," Draco growled.

He picked up where he'd left off, thrusting hard and fast. Hermione clung to him with all her strength, matching his rhythm, desperate for more. She came again, just as powerfully as the first time. And then again. She soared from one body-shaking climax to the next, even the troughs between peaks achingly pleasurable.


	15. Chapter 15

"Magic Works" by The Weird Sisters filled the silence. Hermione became aware of a bone-deep weariness. She lay sprawled in the dark with leaden arms and legs, breathing like she'd just run a race, overheated and sweating, too exhausted and too satisfied to move. Even the weight of Draco's body atop hers didn't bother her. He, too, was gasping for breath and sweating.

Draco groaned and stirred above her. A moment later she felt his weight lifted from her. She felt the brush of his hand through her pubic hair, then the disappointing sensation of his cock slipping out of her. He was little more than a shadow in the darkness. Hermione realized the sun had set while they were busy.

Draco removed the condom he wore and disposed of it in a waste basket. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden bloom of light when he turned on a lamp. She felt his weight settle on the edge of the bed so she shifted over to make room for him. He stretched out on his side, his body pressed against hers.

He turned her head with a touch, then kissed her. She kissed him back, pulling him into her arms. She felt a wave of affection and gratitude toward Draco. The kiss ended but they lay in one another's arms, legs entwined, as they caught their breath and cooled off. Hermione drew a noisy breath as a jolt pleasure made her quiver. It seemed to come from nowhere; all at once she experienced a faint echo of the pleasure she'd experienced earlier.

"Cold?" Draco asked. He ran his hand up and down her arm. She saw him glance around for something to pull over them.

Hermione shook her head. "No.

He pushed himself up on one elbow. "You sure? I can get a blanket—"

She met his gaze, pleased by the concern she saw in them. "No, it's fine. I just...." She caught herself trailing off again, not finishing the thought. "I just had a—an aftershock."

"A what now?"

"An aftershock. Like after an earthquake?" She began to wonder if she'd have to draw him a map. "You have the big quake and then...aftershocks."

Concern turned to surprise. "Oh." Then, "Are those a thing?"

Hermione shrugged. "Yeah. I get them sometimes."

"Okay," Draco said agreeably. He stretched out alongside her again. They didn't speak for quite some time. The only sound in the room was the playlist from his laptop. Occasionally Hermione heard movement, voices or the slamming of doors in the hallway outside. But that was outside, and had nothing to do with her. She was content to lie quietly in Draco's arms and enjoy the high from all the endorphins that had soaked her brain. Whatever he was thinking he also kept to himself and for once she didn't worry over it.

Draco's free hand, which been idly caressing her, began moving with purpose. His touch roamed freely, caressing and fondling, rekindling her desire. She pulled him into a lingering kiss that demonstrated better than words could that she was fully onboard with his intentions.

His next kiss was to the hollow of her throat, then a chain of kisses down between her breasts. He fondled her breasts with both hands, kissing and licking first one nipple and then the other. Hermione sighed in pleasure. It felt like her nipples had a direct connection to her pussy; she felt herself swelling and getting wet again.

Draco moved on, kissing and licking his way down to her navel. It tickled once and she twitched and giggled. "Sorry," Draco mumbled, never slowing his progress toward his ultimate goal. She felt his lips in her bush a moment before he pressed a kiss on her pussy.

Hermione moaned and spread her legs, letting him know—as if he had any doubt—that she liked what he was doing. He made a satisfied noise, pleased by her response. His lips and tongue danced along her labia, soft wet caresses that built her excitement with every touch. Minutes passed, delightful pleasure-filled minutes of increasingly focused attention.

His tongue stroked her, a silken lash that traveled the length of her labia with aching deliberation, only to rain quick, light caresses on her clit. His tongue delved between her lips too, lapping up her juices, though it couldn't be as long as it felt to her. Then, just as it became just shy of too much he backed off and resumed broad, flat strokes of his tongue to maintain her arousal without sending her over the edge.

It was maddening. At some point she had tried to grab his head and force his face deeper, desperate for release. He'd caught her hands in his and pulled them away without missing a stroke, lacing his fingers with hers to hold her helpless. Now he teased her cruelly, bringing her to the edge of orgasm over and over again without letting her come. She writhed beneath his assault, whimpering and begging him to give what she wanted, what she needed.

When he did, it was shattering. Hermione thrashed, kicking her feet, squeezing his fingers in clenching fists as she screamed, the pleasure so intense she couldn't contain it within her body. The ecstasy peaked and receded, only to rise up and engulf her repeatedly. It ended at last, leaving her spent, limp, and sodden with pleasure. She gasped for breath, her lungs afire, and the relative silence rang in her ears. She had an instant of self-awareness when she wondered just how long and how loudly she'd screamed. Then it was gone, and she didn't care.

Draco loomed over her, his own breathing deep but steady. His mouth and cheeks shone and dripped with her juices. His eyes shone with pleasure. And pride. And lust. She could feel his cock, rock hard and hot, against her thigh. "Mind if I play through?"

She grinned until she thought her cheeks would split, and then laughed, so full of joy she couldn't help it. "Please," she said. "Please do."

Draco impaled her. She took him easily this time. He buried himself balls deep with a sexy groan of pleasure, then held very still. It took her a moment to realize he was struggling to control himself, that he was on the edge of orgasm. It was thrilling to realize that he'd gotten so aroused just from giving her pleasure. It made her feel powerful.

It tempted her to work her hips against him, to drive him over the edge. It wouldn't take much, clearly. She wanted to watch him come, and see what his face looked like in that moment.

But she remained still and silent, letting his example guide her. This moment was for him, when and as he wanted it. He remained still and silent for a minute or more. When he moved, it was slowly and carefully, until he lay against her body from breast to hips. He took his weight on his elbows so she wasn't uncomfortable, but she could feel it every time he took a breath.

He kissed her on the mouth. A long, lingering kiss. Then he turned his head so they were cheek to cheek, his breath warm against her ear. He withdrew until only the head of his cock was inside her, then drove his length inside her once more. Paused, then again. That set the pace.

He fucked her slowly, deliberately. It wasn't romantic, but it was nothing like the fierce, frantic pace of their first coupling. He wrapped himself around her, getting as close as possible, kissing her neck occasionally when he paused to master himself. She felt and heard every sigh and groan of pleasure he made, and felt as well the gradually rising tension in his body.

It was a pleasurable experience for Hermione, but not orgasmic. She wasn't sure she was capable of coming again, at least for a while. But this gentle fucking felt good—and seeing and hearing and feeling how much pleasure he was experiencing from fucking her was exciting as hell. She knew well before it happened that Draco was about to come, and it was everything she'd hoped to witness.

The flickering expressions on his face, the incoherent noises that escaped his open mouth, the way he shuddered in her arms and poured himself into her—it thrilled her as much as her orgasms had, but in a very different way. She laid frantic kisses on his cheek, his neck, his mouth. She threw her arms around him to hold and caress him, rocking him between her thighs as he came, and then continued to pet him as he relaxed and his breathing gentled.

Minutes passed. The music continued, accompanied by more noises from the hallway. Hermione didn't want to move yet, didn't want to disturb Draco, but his weight was beginning to bother her. She patted his side and was unsurprised when he took the hint. He rolled away, careful to hold the condom in place as he pulled out.

Hermione felt an unexpected relief to see it. When Draco asked to fuck her she'd been so lost in a haze of endorphins from being eaten that the necessity of it hadn't crossed her mind. She didn't remember seeing him put one on either. She was grateful to learn that he was conscientious enough to take care of such things without prompting.

He sat up long enough to drop it in the nearby waste basket, then flopped back onto the bed. "Oh man," he said, "I'm wiped out."

Hermione propped herself on one elbow to grin down at him. "Well, you've been very busy."

Draco grinned back. "It was well worth it, I assure you." His gaze dropped to her breasts and he brushed one nipple with the back of his hand. "You're smokin' hot."

"Yeah?" Hermione liked hearing it but she didn't believe it, not really. She was nice enough looking, she supposed, if you liked skinny girls. But not hot. Not like Ginny. She was hot. But it was nice to hear Draco say so.

She remembered a question she'd had earlier. "So," she said, "would you say I'm a 'hot fuck?'"

Draco's look of surprise and chagrin told her she'd guessed correctly. "Hell, yes."

"So it was you I talked to that night."

He nodded.

"Did you know it was me when you invited me in here?"

He nodded again.

"Were you planning to seduce me?"

He hesitated, choosing his words. "I sure as hell wanted to. I didn't know if you'd be interested, but I wanted to try."

Hermione leaned down to give him a kiss. "Well, mission accomplished, then."

"And for you," Draco said. "You came knocking on Viktor's door hoping to get laid, didn't you?"

She smiled despite the faint embarrassment she felt. "Yeah, I did." She half expected her throat to close up and choke off her words, but it didn't. "He told me he'd be away this weekend but I forgot. Maybe I didn't want to remember. I was really horny."

Draco fondled her breast. "Was? You're all better now?"

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, focusing on the pleasant sensation of his hand on her body. "I wouldn't say that," she admitted. "But right now I'm sweaty and tired and starving." As if to punctuate her point, her stomach growled.

Draco laughed and sat up. "Yeah, me too." He left the bed long enough to retrieve his phone from his jeans on the floor. He sat down beside Hermione again, tapping at his phone. "You like pizza?"

"Sure," Hermione said.

Draco continued texting with his thumbs, then set the phone done. "Done. We'll have pizza in about half an hour. How about a shower while we wait?"

The shower stall was too small for much fooling around with both of them in the cramped space. Nonetheless they managed some necking when they weren't sliding soapy hands all over one another on the pretense of washing. Draco got hard again and Hermione gave him a few tugs, but they didn't go any farther by mutual if unspoken agreement.

The pizza arrived while Hermione was drying herself. Draco, already wearing a towel around his waist, went to answer the door. He left the bathroom door open. He opened the door to the hallway. "Hey," he said, "let me get my wallet. You wanna bring that in? You can just set it on the desk."

The delivery guy entered the room carrying a flat pizza box and a two-liter bottle of soda. He glanced in Hermione's direction, did a double take as she stood frozen in shock, naked and wet in front of this stranger. He recovered and continued into the room to finish the transaction with Draco.

Hermione stared at the open bathroom doorway, turned on to know that a stranger had seen her naked, and shocked by her response—and by how powerful it was. The delivery guy wasn't particularly attractive, and she hadn't gotten a good look at him anyhow. It didn't matter. He'd gotten an eyeful of her and that knowledge thrilled her. She hadn't moved when the delivery guy reappeared in the doorway. He paused and his gaze swept over her. She could feel the way his eyes drank her in and wondered if he could see her nipples getting hard, or the sudden warmth between her legs.

He gawked for an instant longer, then shook himself and departed. Draco closed the door behind him. She heard him throw the bolt. He glanced into the bathroom, smirking, but said only, "Pizza's ready."

It was odd. She felt more embarrassed by Draco's knowing that she'd exposed herself to a stranger than she was by doing so. She'd known she had a voyeuristic streak, but clearly Ginny wasn't the only one with an exhibitionist kink. It wasn't likely to bother Draco, so what the hell.

She wrapped her towel around her waist and left the bathroom. Draco had moved the two chairs to a corner of his desk, where the pizza box lay open. "I'm out of paper plates, I'm afraid," he said. "Lots of paper towels, though."

"That'll do," Hermione said. She was too hungry to concern herself with niceties like plates or napkins. Draco poured soda into a couple of plastic tumblers and handed her one. It wasn't great pizza, but it wasn't bad. Most important, though, it satisfied her hunger. They ate leaning close together over the pizza box. They didn't speak much while they ate, both too focused on the food, though they grinned at one another knowingly, like conspirators.

In a way they were, Hermione supposed. They'd both wanted to get laid, and they'd used one another to get what they wanted. Now that she'd been sated, at least for the moment, she felt guilty about fucking Draco. Would Viktor be disappointed? Angry? She didn't know him well enough to guess how he'd react, but she couldn't imagine he'd be pleased.

"Penny for your thoughts," Draco said.

Hermione glanced at him. Guilt nagged at her. It must have shown on her face.

"Thinking about Viktor, huh?"

Hermione looked down, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah."

"You said you were only 'sort of' his girlfriend. Is that right?"

Hermione nodded, still avoiding his gaze.

"So you aren't exclusive?"

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it. Sighed. "We never really talked about it."

"So...not exclusive." He made it sound so simple. If only it were.

Hermione shook her head, met his eyes. "No, we never talked about it. We never said yes or no. I don't know what he expects. Maybe he thinks of me as his girlfriend."

"You're feeling guilty," Draco said. "Do you regret what we did?"

"No," Hermione said promptly. The certainty in her voice surprised her. She thought for a minute, trying to untangle her feelings. Draco waited.

"I'm not at all sorry that I slept with you," Hermione told him. Her stomach fluttered, the familiar sensation of anxiety—but in this case because she was daring to bare her feelings to Draco. She felt brave and frightened all at once.

"I wanted to fuck you, and I did. I have no regrets about that. I feel guilty about it, but only because I may hurt Viktor. He's a good guy, and I don't want to hurt his feelings."

Draco accepted her words with a nod. "I'm glad. I wanted to fuck you too." He reached over and took her hand in his, giving her a look of desire. "I still want to fuck you. Since we've already done it a couple of times, would you like to spend the night with me? I promise to make it worth your while."

His touch, his look, and his words couldn't have been better calculated to fan the embers of her desire into flame. Just the thought of his hands and mouth on her body again, of having his cock inside her again, sent chills along her skin and had her getting wet.

"Yes, I'd like that." She still felt guilty, but her guilt would be no worse for spending more time in Draco's bed. Measured against the certainty of a great deal more pleasure in the immediate future, her guilt was easily pushed aside.

There were practical questions, though. "What about your roommate?"

Draco shook his head. "He's away for the weekend. He's got a girlfriend back home, and he goes to see her most weekends."

Hermione smiled. "Good. We won't be interrupted." She raised a slice of pizza, looked at it, and decided she'd had enough. She put it back in the box and wiped her fingers with a paper towel. She sat back and watched Draco devour another slice, grinning back at her all the while.

"What?"

"I was just thinking," Draco said. "It wasn't just Viktor's bed banging against the wall that first night that gave you away."

"No?" Hermione felt a faint heat in her cheeks, though nothing like she usually experienced. Maybe she wasn't as quick to blush as she used to be.

Draco shook his head. "You were rather loud."

"I was?"

"Nobody outside Viktor's door had any doubt that he was fucking you, or that you really, really liked it."

Now the familiar heat bloomed in Hermione's face. "Oh god," she muttered, briefly hiding her face in her hands. She lowered them to face Draco. "I was really that loud?"

"Yeah," Draco said. "That first night—and every time since. You were pretty lively with me, too, a while ago. You didn't know?"

"I...no," Hermione said.

"That's not all," Draco added.

"Oh god...."

"No, nothing like that. It's just—you blush awfully easily. You know that, right?"

Hermione nodded. She had pale skin and she'd always blushed at the drop of a hat.

"Well, you turn red whenever you come," Draco said. He gestured at himself as he continued. "Your whole face, your throat, and your chest. Even if you were completely still and silent—and you're not—there's no doubt about when you're coming."

Hermione had no response to that. She didn't doubt him. That no one else had ever noticed wasn't surprising. Cormac never made her come. It had been dark that first night with Viktor. There had been more light later on, but maybe Viktor noticed and he just hadn't said anything.

"Huh," Hermione said finally.

"I like it," Draco said. "Just in case you were wondering. It's cute. And I like seeing visible proof that I made you come."

Hermione's flush grew even darker if the heat in her face was any indication. "Really? The shouting and the thrashing around weren't enough?"

"Those are nice," Draco agreed. "But those can be faked. Nobody can fake that. Not that I think you were. Faking, I mean."

Hermione leaned in and silenced him with a kiss. "I get it. I'm glad you like it."

Draco laughed. "I don't just like it. It turns me on."

Hermione liked hearing that, liked knowing that her reactions turned him on. She wondered just what exactly she looked and sounded like when she came. I could find out, she thought. The idea of recording herself having sex produced a sinking sensation in her belly like riding a high speed elevator to the top of a tall building. It both terrified and excited her. Just the idea of something as brazen as making a sex tape turned her on fiercely—even as the thought of such a tape getting out horrified her. It would be a terrible risk. And yet, she knew, in a small stubborn corner of her mind, that she would do it eventually.

Not tonight. But it would happen

They didn't jump right back into bed. Neither Hermione nor Draco wanted to do so right after eating. Hermione took the opportunity to gather her clothes, grab her backpack and disappear into the bathroom, hoping Viktor's roommate wasn't home. In addition to her laptop and a couple of textbooks, her backpack contained toiletries. She'd been planning to stay the night with Viktor, after all. They worked just as well for sleeping over with Draco.

She washed her face and hands and brushed her hair. She definitely had that Just Fucked Look going on, and while it turned her on to know that her appearance advertised her sex life, it also promised to embarrass her. "You're just a mass of conflicting desires, aren't you?" she asked her reflection.

She didn't need an answer. She brushed her teeth while she was at it, then dressed again. She felt daring enough to stuff her bra into her pack instead of putting it on again. When she stepped out of the bathroom Draco was at his computer, his back to her. "All done?" he asked.

"Yes. Sorry I took so long."

"Don't worry about it," he said. He took in her appearance. "You're not leaving?"

Hermione glanced down at herself, then up again. "What? Oh—no. I just...." She shrugged, uncertain how to finish her sentence.

"Good," Draco said. He moved closer and kissed her. "My turn," he said, and vanished into the bathroom. When he returned, Hermione had settled on his bed, leaning against the wall with her own laptop open on her lap. He dressed quickly.

"Hermione," he said.

She looked up. "Yeah?"

"Mind if I open the door? It's kinda stuffy in here."

A logjam of possible responses threatened to choke her into silence. She refused to let them. "No," she said. "I don't mind."

Viktor propped the door open, then opened the window. Then he resumed his seat, saying, "Let me know when you're ready for a rematch."

Hermione felt herself blush, but she smiled at his wink. "You too."

She had imagined that she'd get some homework done, but it didn't happen. She tried to read some of her assigned texts, but she couldn't concentrate. Sense memories of being thoroughly fucked right here on this bed distracted her, as did anticipation of more to come. She'd thought she was sated earlier, but that respite had been fleeting. The knowledge that she was simply marking time until she resumed her favorite pastime kept her on edge.

She checked her email and let Ginny know she'd have their room to herself tonight.

Draco worked silently at his computer, at least when he wasn't talking to the parade of neighbors who took the open door as an invitation to visit. He was careful to introduce each of them to Hermione, and they all made a point of saying hello to her, but she forgot their names almost immediately. She'd always been bad at holding onto names on first meeting.

It wasn't until the fourth time one of Draco's acquaintances looked her over with obvious curiosity that it hit her. They were checking her out! Hermione's face flamed as she realized they must have heard her earlier and wanted to see who had made all that noise. Embarrassment and excitement fought to a draw inside her; embarrassing, yes, but it also gave her an illicit thrill to know that they knew she'd been having sex—and enjoying it quite loudly.

When the most recent gawker had departed, Hermione closed her laptop and looked at Draco. "It's time," she announced.

He closed his own laptop hastily. "I agree," he said. Another couple of neighbors arrived just as he reached the door. "Later," he said, pushing it closed. Hermione saw them lean to one side, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the doorway. She waved to them as the door closed.

Draco joined her by the bed. She'd been about to peel off her shirt but changed her mind and reached out to unsnap and unzip his jeans. They slid down to his thighs, revealing a tent in his briefs that his jeans had only hinted at. Hermione pressed her palm to his belly and slipped her hand into his underwear to wrap her hand around his hard cock.

His hairless cock felt huge, hot, and hard. Bigger than she remembered. But not too big; she'd taken it before and enjoyed it immensely. She wanted it again.

Draco remained still, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of her hand on his cock. Hermione stroked it a few times, turned on by the soft sounds of pleasure he made. She crouched in front of him, releasing his cock only long enough to adjust her hold on him. With her free hand she pulled his jeans down around his ankles, and then his briefs. She stroked him slowly, gauging his size more closely. He was bigger around than Viktor, though not as long.

But not so big around that she couldn't take the head of his cock in her mouth.

Draco gasped, more from surprise than pleasure, but then he groaned loudly as she took a little more of him into her mouth. There was no way she could swallow his whole length, but she didn't have to. She sucked and tongued the head of his cock for a time, then licked the shaft, stroking him with her hand all the while. She explored and fondled his balls with her free hand, doing so very gingerly at first but with increasing firmness and confidence when Draco made it clear he was enjoying it.

Draco made plenty of inarticulate sounds of enjoyment, supplemented by an occasional exclamation of "oh God!" or "Christ, that feels good!" Having that effect on him turned Hermione on more than she expected. She tried to swallow a little more of his cock, but backed off when she felt her gag reflex make itself known.

She contented herself with licking and sucking Draco, and fondling his balls, until she felt him touch her hand. She backed off, letting the tip of his cock pop out of her mouth. "Yes?"

Draco's quivering breath and drugged smile was answer enough. "I'm about to pop," he said, "but I want to be fucking you when I come."

"Oh god," Hermione muttered, overcome by a wave of lust. His words—and the picture they conjured in her imagination—inflamed her desires beyond reason. She couldn't stand and peel off her clothing fast enough, and all the same he was naked before she was. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard, a deep tongue kiss that demonstrated just how much he wanted her, and how little he cared about where her mouth had just been.

When he relaxed his hold on her, Hermione moved to lie down on the bed behind her.

"No," Draco said. "I want you on top this time."

He stretched out on his back, his erect cock standing upright. "Not there," he said when Hermione prepared to straddle his hips. "Sit on my face," he suggested, gesturing with one hand. Hermione stared, uncertain of what to do, or how to go about it.

Draco coaxed her into doing as he asked. Hermione felt self-conscious kneeling at the end of his bed, but he was insistent and eager, so she did. It took a few adjustments before she settled into the right position, but when she had Draco made it worth the effort.

His hands settled on her ass, where he could help support and steady her, and also shift her position when it suited him. She clutched the head rail of his bed for balance as well. Draco put his lips and tongue to work with enthusiasm and skill. Despite her initial discomfort with the idea, his talented mouth soon had her sighing and moaning with pleasure. She felt herself getting wetter, felt herself swelling and spreading, ready—eager—for more.

She was riding a rising tide of pleasure when Draco's hands let her go, forcing her to concentrate on maintaining her position. The faint crinkle of a condom packet explained what Draco was doing. A moment later his hands touched her hips again. "Ready for more?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. There was no sexy way to do this, so she didn't try. She crawled backward until she felt Draco's cock against her ass. She balanced on her knees and one hand to reach between her thighs and grab it. It took her only a moment to guide the head between her pussy lips. It felt hard and hot and she made a low sound of pleasure as she sank down over it, impaling herself.

Draco reached up to fondle her breasts. "You're on top," he said, "so you're in charge."

Hermione took him at his word. She raised her hips, intimately aware of the feel of his hard cock gradually withdrawing. With only the head still penetrating her, she impaled herself once more, groaning with pleasure at the sensation of him pressing deeper and deeper until she had taken his whole length. She paused for a moment, enjoying being fully engaged, before doing it all again, and then again.

This wasn't entirely new to her. She'd seen Ginny riding a lover this way, and she'd even done it with Viktor a few times. It wasn't a favorite of hers but she understood now why Ginny liked it. She loved missionary, loved feeling a man's weight on her body, loved the sensation of being fucked like that, but this approach showed every sign of being just as pleasurable.

It required more effort on her part. She began breathing harder very quickly, and not just because she was getting more aroused. It was hard work! Supporting her own weight on her arms while she rocked her hips—she'd never realized just how hard her lovers had worked to give her the pleasure she'd experienced. But it was worth it. She had complete control of how quickly she rocked against Draco, how deeply she took him, at what angle she let him penetrate her.

She experimented a bit before finding a rhythm she really liked. She settled into it, her excitement growing with every thrust of her hips. The ecstatic expression on Draco's face, the growls of pleasure he made, and the way his hands caressed and teased her breasts added to her arousal. Hermione rode him, her breaths growing louder and deeper. She closed her eyes now, the better to focus on the glorious sensations she felt. The rising tide of pleasure crested, receded, then rolled over her once more.

She trembled on the edge of orgasm for a long instant before the tide receded. She rode him harder, faster, desperate for release. The tide rose once more, engulfing her. Hermione shuddered and—yes—cried out in her ecstasy. She heard herself this time, babbling incoherently as she quivered and shook from the intensity of her pleasure. It went on and on—and was over all too quickly.

It left her gasping, half collapsed on top of Draco as the strength ran out of her arms, her body shaking. The tide had receded again, but not far. It wouldn't take much to push her over the top once more, and she wanted that. Wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything.

She forced her shaking arms to push her upright again. She drew a loud, shaky breath, and began to ride Draco once more, desperate to recapture the bliss she'd just experienced. In less than a dozen strokes, she found it again. Another orgasm roared through her body, leaving her incapable of thought for some timeless interval.

When it was over, Hermione laughed, so full of joy that she couldn't contain it if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to. She could feel the potential for more ecstasy swirling around her like flood waters, requiring only the tiniest ripple to engulf her once more. She felt exhausted, her breathing was ragged, but not so exhausted that she couldn't muster the effort to continue fucking Draco.

Afterward she remembered nothing except the endless series of orgasms that followed, each better than the last, spiraling into a mindless haze of bliss. She might have passed out. When she became aware of herself again, she lay on her side, limbs slack, heavy and trembling. Draco's hand cupped her cheek and she struggled to focus on his face. He lay facing her propped on one elbow.

"Are you okay?" He sounded worried.

"'M fine," Hermione muttered. She quivered as an aftershock of pleasure rolled through her body.

"You sure?"

Hermione smiled lazily, relaxed and utterly content. "I'm sure. Why?"

"I think you fainted."

"Did I?" But even as she asked, Hermione knew it was true. She'd lost all sense of herself as she rode that endless high, lost in the pleasure until she'd regained awareness lying here beside Draco. Another first. "Maybe I did," she said. "I hope I didn't scare you."

"Only a little," Draco said.

Hermione suspected it was more than a little. "This never happened to you before?"

Draco shook his head. "You were rockin' and rollin' and...making noise—and then you just stopped and fell forward."

"Sorry to scare you. That's the first time it's ever happened to me." It alarmed her a little that she'd lost control so thoroughly that she'd passed out. It excited her too. She'd never imagined she could feel that much pleasure. It frightened her too that if not for meeting Ginny, she might have gone years—maybe her whole life—without ever learning what she was missing.

Speaking of missing things... Hermione glanced down at Draco's cock. It was shrunken and soft, no longer wrapped in a condom. "Did you come?"

Draco grinned. "Oh hell yes! With a beautiful naked little minx riding my cock and screaming her head off? I came hard. You were just too busy to notice." He settled onto his back and pulled Hermione close with an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head on his chest. "You were great," he added.

"Thanks," Hermione said, doing her best to ignore the screaming her head off part. "I'd hate to think you missed out."

"No worries," Draco said. "I had a great time."

There didn't seem to be anything more to say. Hermione lay quietly, cuddled up against Draco in the dark. When sleep took her she never noticed.


	16. Chapter 16

Sunlight woke her. Squinting through one eye, the other squeezed shut, Hermione stared at the dust motes dancing in the light. She felt fuzzy-headed and exhausted and it took a few moments to remember where she was. She was lying on her side with Draco spooned up behind her, one arm draped over her waist.

She lifted her head to listen for a moment. Draco breathed slowly and quietly behind her. The building was silent. Everyone—or almost everyone—was asleep this soon after dawn. She'd have remained asleep herself except for the sunlight stabbing her in the eyes. The window had blinds. She could close them—but now that she was awake, she felt the need to return to her own room. She felt..dirty, sticky, and didn't want anyone to smell her morning breath.

Slipping out of bed without waking Draco was easier thought of than accomplished. She didn't want to talk to him until after she'd had a chance to use the bathroom, brush her teeth, maybe even shower. Simply moving was painful—she discovered sore muscles in all kinds of places, some of them quite intimate. The thought brought a rush of delightful memories and a grin that stretched her cheeks. A little tenderness was a small enough price to pay for what she'd experienced.

Once she was standing by the bed, Hermione picked up her backpack and retreated to the shared bathroom. She locked both doors before brushing her teeth, using the toilet and taking a quick shower, carefully keeping her hair dry. She dried herself with the towel she'd used the night before, then unlocked the door to the other room before scurrying out and closing the bathroom door behind her.

Draco was still dead to the world. Going back to sleep seemed like a great idea—but she wanted her own bed. She dressed hastily, gave the room a quick once over to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind, then knelt beside Draco's bed with her backpack slung over one shoulder.

He didn't react to his name though she called it several times. A couple of firms shakes finally roused him. Draco peered at her through slitted eyes. He mumbled something but she didn't catch it. "I'm going home," Hermione told him. "Thanks for a terrific night."

"Yeah, it was great," he mumbled. "Do it again sometime?"

Hermione nodded, excited by the prospect. "I'd like that." She hesitated, wondering should I kiss him? What the hell. Why not? She did, and did her best not to take it personally when he returned it only half-heartedly. She wasn't sure he was really still awake at that point.

She didn't meet anyone leaving his room. Everyone was dead to the world, just as she would be on most mornings. She was a night-owl by nature and almost never saw the world so soon after dawn. The campus looked very different with the morning light slanting in from the east. It glittered on the dew covering everything. The air was brisk—cold when the wind kicked up—and Hermione shivered in her thin t-shirt.

She was happy to reach her own dorm, and happier still to enter her dorm room, only dimly lit by what little light penetrated the window curtains. Judging by the size of the lump under Ginny's comforter, she wasn't alone in bed. No surprise there.

Hermione closed the door with exaggerated care, then crept the short distance to her own bed. She removed her shoes but didn't bother undressing otherwise. She snuggled down into the bedclothes and let a long, silent sigh carry her away. Ginny could have an orgy in the next bed and she wouldn't notice. Not this morning.

Ginny and her guest were gone when Hermione woke up. She knew without looking at her alarm clock that it was nearly noon. Night owl she might be, but her mother refused to let any child of hers sleep all day. Too many years of such discipline made it impossible for her to sleep past noon. She lay gathering her will power for a minute, then flung the sheet and quilt aside and climbed out of bed—and rediscovered all the aches she'd accumulated the night before. They were, if anything, worse than before.

Hermione lurched to the bathroom feeling rather like a zombie. She poured some water and swallowed a couple of painkillers with it. She stared at herself in the mirror for a minute considering her options, then stripped and took a second shower. A long shower, with lots of hot water to ease her sore muscles, and to wash her hair.

Toweling off, dressing in fresh clothes, and brushing out her hair took quite some time. She moved slowly, deliberately, her mind occupied with memories of her night with Draco. She felt much too sore to feel any desire at the moment, or maybe she was sated by their marathon lovemaking. No, not lovemaking. Fucking.

There had been little tenderness in what they'd done. They'd been eager, excited, horny—but it had been purely physical. She'd enjoyed it immensely, more than she'd imagined was possible. She couldn't begin to count how many times she came with Draco, but she knew it was many more than she ever had with Viktor.

Was it Draco? Was he that good? Or was Viktor just mediocre? He'd seemed amazing compared to Cormac back home, who'd done his virgin, inexperienced best. He'd given her a lot of pleasure. But Draco—Draco was way better.

He'd fucked her so well. He'd probably fucked a lot of girls to be that good at it. She wondered how she compared to all of his previous lovers. He'd come several times while fucking her, so probably pretty well. Well enough, in any case, that he wanted to see her again. She was very glad of that because she definitely wanted to fuck him again. Soon.

Hermione glanced up at the sound of keys in the lock. The door swung open and Ginny entered the room. She flashed Hermione a grin. "Hey, roomie," she said, leaving the door open behind her. "Long time, no see."

"Hey, Ginny," Hermione replied, wishing Ginny hadn't returned. The thought startled her. She liked Ginny, and after a rocky start they'd become good friends. So why did her return tie a tiny knot of anxiety in her belly?

"You and Viktor have fun last night?" Ginny asked.

And there it was. The root of her anxiety. Hermione stared at Ginny, feeling exposed and vulnerable, unable to formulate a response—unable to pull a coherent answer from the whirlwind of possibilities clouding her thoughts. She desperately hoped her face wouldn't give her away.

Ginny had been settling back on a pile of pillows on her bed. Now she paused, turning her head slightly as she peered at Hermione. She sat up. "Hermione?

Hermione closed her eyes, wishing Ginny weren't here or that she weren't here, wishing that closing her eyes would hide her from Ginny, knowing that it was only adding to the sum Ginny was calculating.

"Hermione, were you with Viktor last night?"

Hermione scooted backward on her own bed until she was sitting with her back to the wall, knees pulled up in front of her. She put her hands over her face. "No."

"Are you okay?"

The question was so unexpected, so not what Hermione was expecting that she lowered her hands to look at Ginny. "What?"

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you guys break up?"

The look of concern on Ginny's face was so obvious, so unexpected, that Hermione blurted the truth. "No, nothing like that." She watched the tension in Ginny's frame fade, and saw a hint of mischievousness take its place now that she was no longer worried.

"But you did spend the night with someone?"

"Yes." Embarrassment and pride wrestled for dominance in Hermione's soul.

Ginny smiled. "Anyone I know?"

"I don't know. A neighbor of Viktor's. Draco. Blonde. Pale?"

Ginny shook her head. "Don't know him. So how did you get together with him? I thought you were going to stay with Viktor."

"Viktor wasn't there. I forgot he was going home this weekend."

Ginny's smile broadened. "I see. So you found yourself another playmate."

"I—yes," Hermione admitted. She squirmed under Ginny's gaze. "You said I needed to learn to find my own playmates."

Ginny laughed. "Yes, I did. I have to admit, I didn't think it would happen so fast." She moved from her bed to Hermione's to sit tailor-fashion facing her, leaning close "So," she said in an intimate voice, "tell me all about it."

Hermione did. Not without long pauses and occasional blushes, but she told Ginny the whole story. It would have been unthinkable for her to share such an intimate story before she'd met Ginny. She still couldn't imagine sharing the details of her sex life with anyone else, but she liked being able to share the details with Ginny.

"Wow," Ginny said when Hermione ran down. "Sounds like you had a great time. You gonna see him again?"

"Yeah, I think so." He'd been interested and Hermione definitely was.

"What about Viktor?"

Hermione felt some of her enthusiasm leak away. "I don't know."

"Are you going to tell him?"

Hermione sighed loudly. "I don't know," she said. She didn't like how whiny she sounded. "I should, I guess. I don't want to. I don't know how he'll take it."

Ginny nodded in understanding. "Did you two have any sort of understanding?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. We didn't really talk about it."

"You didn't agree to be exclusive?"

"No." Hermione wanted to leave it there, but honesty compelled her to add, "but we didn't agree not to be exclusive either."

Ginny shrugged that off. "I don't see a problem, then. You only went out, what, twice?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. If you could call falling into bed together as fast as possible 'going out.'

"Do you want to see Viktor again?"

Hermione thought about the question. She liked Viktor, and she liked having sex with him. But she liked having sex with Draco even better. And she liked him, too. He was easy to talk to. But so was Viktor. "I don't know," she said at last, unable to reach a decision. "Maybe."

"Do you want to see Draco again?"

Hermione had no doubts on that score. "Yes."

Ginny grinned. "So a definite yes for Draco, and a maybe for Viktor." She cocked her head, eyeing Hermione sideways for a moment. "Are you thinking you have to choose between them?"

"Well...yeah," Hermione said. How else?

"Why?"

"Why? I have to. I can't just...." The very thought of continuing to see both of them, continuing to sleep with (fuck) them both, alarmed her.

"Can't just what?" Ginny waited. "Can't just...date both of them? Can't just fuck both of them? Why not?"

Because I'm not that kind of girl. Hermione drew a noisy breath, shocked by the vehemence of the thought. "Wow," she said.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"'Because I'm not that kind of girl,'" Hermione said. "That's what popped into my mind when you asked me that."

"Do you believe that?"

Hermione hesitated to answer. Not because she didn't know the answer but because it was something she'd never admitted to anyone before. "No," she said. "I don't." Abiding by the rules back home had always been more about her inability to express her desires and to avoid being ostracized as a 'bad' girl more than a lack of interest.

"Well, then?"

Hermione felt the grin that spread across her face even as a yawning chasm of anxiety opened in her belly. She'd already done things she'd never imagined she could or would, and the possibilities before her were exciting—and frightening. "But what if someone...calls me a slut?" Or just thinks I am?

Ginny patted her hand. "It might happen," she said, which was not what Hermione wanted to hear. She'd wanted Ginny to share some secret that would armor her against such things, even as she realized how stupid that was. "But unless their opinion matters to you, why would you care?"

Why? Because—because Hermione always cared what people thought about her. She hated that about herself. It was at the root of her shyness, her inability to express what she thought or felt or wanted to...anyone, really. Her family, her friends back home, even complete strangers held her in thrall, forcing her into the cramped box of their expectations—even when they made no demands. How many times had she been happily engaged in some bright adventure of her own, playing with her toys and narrating a story line to herself, lost in her imagination, and a parent or sibling had entered the room and she'd felt herself shut down?

Because her interests were inappropriate, or fanciful (read: stupid), or just not the sort of thing anyone else found interesting. Hearing that so often as a child had left scars. No one had to say anything to her any longer; their simple presence was enough to drain the joy from her, and leave her self-conscious and unhappy, waiting impatiently for them to leave her alone once more.

She was only herself when she was alone, and not always even then. In the presence of her parents, her siblings, her schoolmates, the countless strangers in that small town who nonetheless always knew who she was, she was someone else. The good daughter, good student, good Baptist, obedient and quiet and compliant, a bland, bloodless shell of herself programmed to say and do and be only what everyone expected her to be.

The worst possible crime was failure to fit into that tiny, tiny box. God forbid she say or do anything to violate those expectations! Anything that might make anyone uncomfortable—or angry! The shouting from her teachers, quiet recriminations or lengthy dissections of her failings from her parents, or worst of all, the silent treatment from her mother.

It could last for days as her mother spoke to her, if at all, only when absolutely necessary—to tell her to do her chores, or make a cutting comment about her most recently demonstrated personality flaw. Or of course in public, when putting on a good front required her to act as if nothing were wrong.

But no sign of love or affection was to be seen. Or felt. Oh, her mother would feed her and clothe her and make sure she lacked no necessities. But until her anger ran its course, they might as well be strangers. And there was no escaping that fate.

No apology, no expression of regret, no belated recognition of her sins—and certainly no tears, no matter how sincerely felt—were ever sufficient. They were always viewed as crocodile tears, the cunning pretense of a villain whose only real regret was for getting caught, for suffering the rightful consequences of her actions. It was horrible.

She'd spent her whole childhood trying—and failing far too often—to stay in her mother's good graces. And in everyone else's, the better to avoid disappointing her mother again. She hated it!

"Hermione?" The alarm in Ginny's voice caught Hermione's attention. She looked up, only then realizing her eyes were full of tears. That she'd collapsed in on herself, pressed up against the wall behind her, hugging her knees tightly to herself. Her stomach ached and her eyes burned.

"Hermione, what—what's wrong?" Ginny shifted to sit beside Hermione, then pulled her into an awkward embrace. "Talk to me, roomie," Ginny said. "Tell me what's wrong."

Hermione shivered in Ginny's arms, torn by the need to close herself off, to withdraw, and the desire to share her feelings with Ginny. The tension was unbearable, and very real. Her stomach felt like it would tear apart at any moment, or like she would throw up.

She remained silent, trembling in Ginny's arms, tears rolling down her cheeks, wanting to speak but unable to put it into words. She hated herself for it. All the progress she'd made—or thought she'd made—and here she was stubbornly mute once more. She opened her mouth repeatedly, trying to force the words out—but none came.

Ginny pulled away abruptly and sprang from the bed. Hermione watched with dismay as Ginny abandoned her, heart breaking as her friend made a beeline for the door to the room. She'd driven even her best friend away with—

Ginny reached the door and flung it closed, pausing just long enough to throw the lock, then hurried back to pull Hermione into her arms once more. Hermione burst into full blown sobs of vast relief. Ginny wasn't washing her hands of her. Hermione pried her hands free of her own knees and wrapped them around Ginny, clinging to her like she were Hermione's last hope of salvation. She clung to her and cried for a long time, sometimes silently, sometimes with shuddering sobs she felt certain were audible in the hallway outside.

Through it all Ginny held her, rocked her gently, occasionally stroked her hair or kissed the top of her head. She maintained a running commentary, telling Hermione she could cry as long as she needed to, that she'd hold her as long as she needed it, that she could talk if and when she was ready, or remain silent.

Hermione clung to Ginny, taking comfort in her embrace, as she cried out all of what felt like years of accumulated fear, hurt, and—yes—anger she felt. It was deeply comforting to be held so closely by someone she trusted. It was odd to be held so closely by someone she trusted. Odd and unfamiliar.

Her tears slowed and ceased as she wrestled with this revelation. Had she really never felt this kind of unwavering, nonjudgmental comfort from her family? Surely not? If asked, she'd have said she had a—if not a happy childhood, at least a good one. No family tragedies, no terrible failures. No parental infidelities, no one fired from a job, no money troubles. No family problems with gambling or drugs or run-ins with the law.

A thought she'd had earlier came back to her: that's pretty low bar for a good childhood. She hadn't ever felt neglected or abused, but she was beginning to realize that she'd never really felt cherished either. It had left her feeling lonely and perpetually anxious to stay on the right side of her parents'—her mother's—rigid views of right and wrong, acceptable and unacceptable. Her feelings had been irrelevant. Her desires, even her needs, had been irrelevant.

Ginny broke the silence that had stretched between them. "I'm getting a little cramped. Let's change position." She stretched out on her back, and pulled Hermione down to snuggle against her, Hermione's head on Ginny's shoulder.

"That's better," Ginny said. After a moment she added, "What are you thinking about?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately. Ginny held her, waiting patiently, until Hermione spoke. The words came slowly at first, as usual. Talking to Ginny still sometimes took a lot of effort, particularly when the subject cut so close to Hermione's deepest, darkest thoughts. But she could speak to Ginny about it, and that was a definite win. She'd never had a confidante before.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said when Hermione wound down. "That must hurt terribly."

"It does," Hermione confessed. "But...it's true. I just never saw it before. Or never admitted it to myself."

Ginny stroked Hermione's hair, saying nothing. Hermione lifted her head to meet Ginny's gaze. "Thank you," she said, her voice coming out slightly strangled by the sudden lump in her throat. She wished she could convey just how much Ginny's help meant to her. She felt certain she wasn't communicating nearly enough.

"You're welcome," Ginny said. "I hope I helped."

"You did." Hermione sniffled and gave Ginny a weak smile. "But I think that's enough self-reflection for one day." She pushed herself up to sit once more, then leaned over to grab a box of tissues from her desk at the foot of the bed.

Ginny sat up as well. "You feeling any clearer on Viktor and Draco?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. But I know I need to figure it out. Just...not right now."


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione's phone buzzed about 8:30 pm Sunday night. I'm back, Viktor texted. You free?

She stared at the message for at least a minute, feeling a knot develop in her belly. The moment of truth had arrived—and she had no idea what to do or say, or what she wanted to do or say. He was expecting a response and she felt pressure to respond quickly.

Can't, she typed. Studying to do. Tomorrow? She hit SEND.

The response came very quickly. OK. See you tomorrow. Night.

Hermione sat back, blowing out a breath. That was quick. He didn't seem too broken up about not seeing her tonight. Was that a good sign, or a bad one? And why was she disappointed?

She shook her head, though she was less successful at shaking off her worries. Still, her response wasn't really a lie. She did need to study. She watched her phone for a moment, waiting to see if any other texts arrived. When they didn't, she resumed studying.

Hermione approached Viktor's door with growing trepidation. The hallway was mostly deserted. The door of one room stood open. As she passed it, Hermione recognized one of Viktor's—and Draco's—neighbors sitting on his bed toying with his phone. He glanced up, then raised a hand in greeting.

Hermione returned the wave with a weak smile as she passed. She didn't remember his name, though she knew she'd met him. He was one of the guys who'd visited Draco's room while she was there. So he knew she'd slept with Draco, and probably knew about Viktor too. The thought that had been so exciting at the time was simply embarrassing now.

She stopped at Viktor's door, but didn't knock immediately. She touched her cheeks, wondering if they were flushed. Motion to her right caught her attention: the guy she'd seen was standing in the open doorway of his room now, watching her. He acknowledged her look with a nod, then retreated out of sight.

Hermione stared at the empty doorway for a moment wondering what that was about. Then she dismissed it and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Viktor called.

Hermione entered the lion's den, wondering what awaited her.

Viktor lay stretched out on his bed, a paperback novel in one hand. He looked up and saw Hermione standing in the doorway. He put the book down and sat up. Hermione's stomach knotted at the lack of expression on his face. He didn't smile in welcome. He didn't look angry, either. He was just—neutral.

"Hermione," he said.

"Hey," Hermione replied. She moved into the room and closed the door behind her. "How was your trip home?"

"Fine."

The knot in Hermione's belly tightened. He was acting weird. "Just fine?"

Viktor shrugged, then smiled. "It was home. What can I say?"

Hermione offered a feeble smile of her own, her anxiety easing a bit. "That's good, I guess." She didn't want to ask too many questions about his weekend because then he would ask about hers, and she really didn't want to get into that.

Viktor rose from his bed and walked over to take her in his arms. "It's good to see you," he said, and kissed her. "I missed you."

"Me too," Hermione said, when their lips parted. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning back to look up at him.

"Did you?"

"What?" Hermione stared up at him, her pulse thundering abruptly. His smile had vanished again. His expression was hard, eyes narrowed, lips thin, skin flushed.

"Did you? Miss me?"

Hermione's voice failed her, as it so often did under pressure. She looked back at him, wordlessly. The silence stretched painfully taut between them, growing worse every moment as she struggled and failed to find some words to break it.

Viktor's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. "I'm told you missed me so much," his voice cracked as he spoke those words, "that you fucked Draco. Is that true?"

Hermione stared at him, shocked by the anger in his demeanor. Frightened by it. His flush had faded. Now he looked pale, pale and angry. She struggled to pull away, abruptly aware of the size differential between them. Taller, heavier, stronger—Viktor could hurt her if he wanted to.

When Viktor released her, she took a step back on shaky legs, weak with relief. Her hands felt cold, and anxiety knotted things in her belly. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, afraid of him in a way she'd never been before.

"Well?" Viktor demanded. "Is it true?"

Hermione stood mute, her voice failing her once more, face burning. She would have looked away, ashamed of her behavior, but she was afraid to take her eyes off of him. She'd never seen him angry before, much less angry at her.

"You did," Viktor said. "Didn't you?"

Hermione wanted to explain. Wanted to justify herself. But the words wouldn't come. Once again she stood silently, mind awhirl with possible responses, but unable to put any of them into words.

Viktor took her silence as confirmation. "Shit."

He raised a fist as if he wanted to punch something—or someone. Hermione bumped into the door behind her as she backed away, her heart in her throat. He closed his eyes, his pallor fading as he struggled against his anger for a long moment before he sighed heavily and thumped his fist against his thigh.

When he looked at her again, the anger had drained from his face. Now he just looked—sad. "Why?"

Because you weren't here. Because I was horny. Because Draco was available. Because I'm a slut. Hermione stared at Viktor, wanting to answer, wanting to make things okay between them again. Nothing she imagined saying to him was going to accomplish that. Nothing she could say could change what she'd done.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Even she could barely hear the words.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated, barely louder. She felt like shit. She'd known at the time that sleeping with Draco was wrong. Whether they'd talked about it or not, sleeping with Viktor had come with certain expectations. First among them, that she wouldn't sleep with anyone else. She'd known that, but she'd rationalized it away. Viktor wasn't available, but Draco had been. So she'd convinced herself it was okay to fuck him.

Viktor closed his eyes. When he opened them again they glistened. Was he crying? Hermione "I didn't ask if you were sorry. I asked why." 

"Because...." Because I'm a slut. It was true, but she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. She stared at Viktor, hating that she'd hurt him. Hating herself for hurting him. For being such a slut.

"Because?" Viktor prompted her. His eyes gleamed, filled with unshed tears. He stood motionless, his whole body tense.

Hermione shook her head, eyes downcast. "I don't know," she said, knowing she was lying as she said it. She knew exactly why, and hated herself for it.

The silence stretched between them, growing more strained with every passing second. Hermione felt sick to her stomach, shame and embarrassment combining to nauseating effect.

Viktor raised a hand to swipe at his eyes, drawing her gaze. He stood a bit straighter, and the tension in his posture was gone. His face was blank again, neither angry nor hurt. Just...neutral. Somehow that seemed worse.

"We never talked about whether we were a couple," he said. "Never actually talked about what we expected of one another."

He spoke conversationally, as if discussing the weather, his voice as neutral as his expression. Hermione shook her head slightly. "No."

Viktor drew a deep breath. "I thought it was understood."

Hermione said nothing.

"I was wrong," Viktor said. "Next time I'll know better."

His words fell like physical blows. Hermione cringed, hating herself for what she'd done, for hurting Viktor so badly. For he was hurt, and it was entirely her fault. She'd been so selfish, so filled with lust that she'd ignored her conscience and convinced herself that doing what she wanted in the moment was acceptable.

She'd convinced herself that Viktor wouldn't know, or if he knew, that he wouldn't mind. She'd been stupid and selfish. She'd been so obsessed with her own pleasure that she'd hurt Viktor, hurt a good man who'd never been anything but kind to her. A man who had expected that she'd treat him with equal kindness. Instead, she'd fallen into bed with someone else the very first time he wasn't available to satisfy her selfish desires.

She was exactly the slut her mother had worried that she would become. She'd let herself succumb to temptation, she'd had sex and she'd liked it. Liked it so much that she was willing to lie to herself to get it. Liked it enough to ignore Viktor's feelings, to fuck his neighbor and to do it so blatantly that there was no way Viktor wouldn't find out.

Hermione hated herself for what she'd done. She wiped at her cheeks, only now realizing that she was crying. She ached for the pain she'd caused Viktor. She wished she could take back her actions, could make it not have been. Her mother's voice filled her thoughts, echoes of the many times she'd wept bitterly when lectured about her most recent transgression and the pain she caused for a sibling, or a friend, or her mother. Crocodile tears, her mother always called them.

She wasn't sorry for what she'd done, according to her mother. She was only sorry that she'd been caught and punished. When she'd cried even harder, hurt by that accusation, her mother invariably withdrew, leaving her to her misery. It would be hours, sometimes days, before she again felt any warmth from her mother—

"Hermione?" Viktor's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione looked up, wiping her cheeks again. By his tone, it wasn't the first time he'd called her name. His mouth was a thin line, an expression that looked eerily familiar despite her never having seen it on him before. It was one her mother had often worn.

"Hermione, I think you should go now," he said when he knew he had her attention again. His eyes had a pinched look that Hermione recognized. He wasn't crying, but only because he was holding back the tears.

Hermione nodded, one hand covering her mouth to stifle a sob she felt rising. "I'm really sorry," she said.

"I don't really care," Viktor replied. "Please, just go."

Hermione turned, fumbled at the knob for a moment, then fled the room. The hallway was still mercifully empty. As Hermione passed an open door, someone inside asked, "Are you all right?"

Hermione's stride stuttered. She wanted nothing more than to escape, but her first instinctive response was to stop and respond. No. She resumed moving. "I'm fine," she said, though she was certain the speaker could tell that she was not, in fact, fine at all.

She glanced back once when she reached the stairwell door. The same student who'd seen her arrive stood silently watching from his doorway. He raised a hand in a silent wave. Hermione turned away and escaped into the stairwell.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few edits to the earlier chapters and now, Hermione is written as having lost her virginity to Cormac McLaggen, not Neville. It made more narrative sense for Neville to be introduced in this chapter as a member of an on-campus D&D campaign, not a shitty high school boyfriend. Thank you for reading!

Hermione was alone in her room. Ginny was out, thank god. She was a good friend, but Hermione didn't need a witness while she huddled on her bed crying. When her tears finally dried up, Hermione sat up, exhausted and head-achy but calmer and clear-headed. She blew her nose, then forced herself onto her feet to wash her face in the bathroom.

It was past dinner time. The Commons would be closed by now—but she wasn't really hungry anyhow. She dithered, uncertain how to fill the hours until bedtime. She was in no mood to study, nor to read or watch a movie on her laptop. Ginny might return to the room any minute with a guy in tow, and she really wasn't in the mood to deal with that.

Hermione checked her phone. No more texts from Viktor, not that she expected to get any more from him. Nothing from Draco, either. She didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. She sighed. She didn't know if she wanted to get texts from Draco. If he texted, it would be because he wanted sex. And if she never had sex again, that would be—well, unfortunate.

Swearing off sex seemed like a good idea now. She was upset and hurt, ashamed of her behavior and feeling guilty over her treatment of Viktor. But Hermione knew herself well enough to know that wouldn't last. Give her a couple of days and she'd be horny again. Ginny's influence had unleashed a side of her she'd never imagined existed.

Until she'd met Ginny, she'd considered sex overrated. She'd occasionally masturbated to relieve the pressure, but it had been a low priority. Now, though? After seeing Ginny enjoy it so much, and after her own experiences? She was a changed woman. She thought about sex all the time, and wanted it pretty much all the time too.

As evidenced by how quickly she'd cheated on Viktor. The memory of his face erased her smile. No, she was too knotted up tonight to be interested. But that would change. She knew it would. If Draco was still interested, Hermione knew she'd sleep with him again. Just not tonight.

Tonight she still needed something to occupy her. Something to take her mind off of her problems. And as she scrolled through her phone, she found just the thing. When the semester started, she had found a group of role-players and joined their game. She'd been a regular until she started spending her free time with Viktor—or Draco.

She'd fallen away from the group. But they still invited her to game with them, and she had a text about a session tonight. They'd been playing for a couple of hours already, but she knew they'd be at it for hours more.

Hermione stood staring at her phone, at the text. Yeah. Losing herself for a few hours in a space adventure seemed like a great idea. She grabbed a notebook and a pen and left the room.

An hour later Hermione was fighting for her life. "I'll leap past the doorway, shooting down the corridor at the guy with the laser rifle!"

"Roll to hit," Ernie told her. He was seated at one of the two desks in the dorm room where they played, acting as GM for the game. Books and papers were scattered across the desk.

Hermione sat tailor-fashion on one of the beds, a clipboard holding her character sheet on her lap. She rolled her dice on it. "Seven," she announced.

"You hit," Ernie announced, to cheers from the other players. "Roll damage."

Hermione grinned, pleased by her success—and by the feeling of companionship she got from her fellow gamers. She'd been greeted enthusiastically when she knocked at the door and entered the room. She'd been absent from the game quite a bit lately but they were glad to have her back. It was a good feeling.

She borrowed more dice from Colin Creevey, who shared the bed with her. She rolled well, and Ernie narrated the grisly end of the man she'd killed. Colin held up a hand and Hermione high-fived him. Across the room, the other three players gave her approving looks or thumbs up.

The game continued. The battle ended with Hermione's character and her allies victorious. They continued their travels until the next threat arose. Hermione played her part in the battle and otherwise leaned back against the wall observing as other players took their turns. Besides Ernie and Colin, there were two other guys: Terry and Neville, sitting opposite Hermione and Colin on the other bed. The only other girl in the room was Hannah, who sat at the second desk. All of them were sophomores, a year ahead of Hermione.

Ernie always ran the game. He clearly preferred that to playing in one. Colin played cautiously, often questioning Ernie extensively before making a decision on his turn. Terry was always ready when his turn came around, and more often than not had a surprising and clever plan in mind. Neville was simply a madman, with a berserker's attitude toward combat. His characters died fairly often, and he always had another ready to go immediately.

And Hannah Abbott...seemed lost a lot of the time, uncertain of what was happening in the game, and willing to take suggestions from the other players on what to do when her turn came around. Hermione wasn't sure she even really liked role-playing games. She was dating Ernie, and seemed to play just to hang around with him.

None of this was new. Hermione had identified the other players' approach to the game after the first few sessions. No, what was new was her awareness of them in physical terms, in her assessment of them as potential playmates. When she'd found this group of gamers, she'd only cared about whether they were a good fit for how she liked to play. The possibility of dating any of them hadn't even entered her mind.

Now? Now she couldn't not assess them that way.

Ernie Macmillan was slightly overweight, soft, and had black hair so dark that a permanent five o'clock shadow was always visible thru his pale skin. Not that it mattered, since he was dating Hannah, who was nearly as pale as he was, but with blonde hair and oversized eyeglasses. Colin was also a bit heavy, short with mousy hair.

Terry Boot was skinny as a rail with thick brown hair, brown eyes, and a goatee. And glasses. Not bad looking, but he didn't stand out either. Neville, though—Neville was very easy on the eyes. Neither skinny nor especially muscular, he definitely looked like an active fellow. He had short dark hair and a defined jawline, as well as blue eyes. Definitely the most promising of the bunch.

Hermione noticed him looking back at her and averted her gaze, looking down at the papers in her lap. She didn't want to draw his attention. She didn't want to be sizing them all up as potential playmates, either, but here she was doing just that.

She'd changed. She wasn't sure of exactly when, but she had.

Not more than two hours ago she'd been exiled from Viktor’s presence for cheating on him, had considered swearing off sex for a time—and now here she was mentally auditioning every man in sight. As if Draco wasn't enough. Or maybe because he wasn't here and these guys were. She'd thought Ginny was sex-obsessed when she first discovered how quickly she jumped into bed with a guy, and how frequently it happened.

How was she any different now?

Answer: she wasn't. She'd progressed from unwitting witness to GInny’s sex life to active participant in Ginny’s exhibitionist kink to sleeping with Viktor in a very short time. She'd also fallen into bed with Draco in even less time because Draco was there and Viktor wasn't and she apparently couldn't keep it in her pants.

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinked and looked up at Ernie. "What?"

Ernie described the situation. Clearly she'd missed it the first time while lost in her thoughts. "I'll, uh, shoot at the guys attacking Neville's character."

The battle was bloody, but brief. Neville's character was still alive, though just barely. "Thanks for the help," Neville said to Hermione. "If you hadn't taken out two of those guys, I'd be toast."

"Sure," she replied.

"Maybe try some subtlety next time," Colin suggested.

"Nah," Neville said. "Too safe, too sane. That's what backup is for. Right, Hermione?" he added with a wink.

He'd winked at her. What did that mean? Had he ever done it before? Not that Hermione could remember. "Right," she said, just to say something.

The game continued a little longer, but there was more cross-talk and less action. Hannah announced the time and said she needed to go. Ernie quickly wrapped up the session and everyone began putting their things away. The game took place in Ernie and Colin's dorm room, so they didn't have to go anywhere.

Hermione filed out with Terry, Hannah, and Neville. Hannah lived in the next dorm over. Terry was across campus and took off with a final wave to everyone. That left Hermione standing outside the dorm with Neville.

Neville said, "Can I walk you home?"

It took Hermione by surprise. Usually they all just split up after the game. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. I want to."

"Okay." Hermione wasn't sure what else to say, so she said nothing. They walked together silently for a couple of minutes. Neville seemed to thinking hard about something. Was he trying to work up the nerve to ask her on a date? Did she want him to?

"You seem different," Neville said at last. It was not what she'd expected.

"I do?"

Neville nodded. "You're different than you were when you started gaming with us."

"Well, yeah," Hermione said. "I'm shy around new people. I don't talk a lot. But I know you guys now."

"No," Neville said, shaking his head slowly. "No, that's not it."

"What, then?"

They walked another few steps before Neville stopped abruptly. Hermione halted as well. Neville said, "You're dressing different, for one thing."  
Hermione glanced down at herself and realized he was right. She was wearing jeans, of course. Sneakers. A blouse instead of a t-shirt. At first glance it wasn't a big change. Except—the jeans were new and tight-fitting, unlike the baggier jeans she'd started the semester wearing. The blouse was tighter as well, and had a scoop neck displaying more skin than her usual t-shirts. It was also new.

Hermione had neither the time nor the money to completely change her wardrobe, but she had bought these and several other items with Ginny's guidance. She'd felt self-conscious wearing them at first, putting her figure on display as they did. The jeans showed off her ass and the blouse revealed a little cleavage.

Which Ginny had argued was the whole point of the new clothes.

Tonight she'd pulled them on without hesitation. She hadn't even noticed. But Neville had. Hermione ducked her head to hide a smile. She liked it that Neville had noticed.

"Yeah, I guess," Hermione said.

"I don't have to guess," Neville replied. She didn't miss the way his gaze lingered on her cleavage before meeting her gaze. "I like it."

"Thanks."

"But that's not all," he added.

"No? What else?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, figure it out quick," Hermione said as she started walking again. "We're almost to my dorm."

Neville took a few long strides to resume his place at her side. "You're hot, is what."

"Am I?" Hermione struggled not to look insufferably pleased by his words. She couldn't recall anyone ever saying she looked hot before. It was a heady feeling. It reminded her of how she'd felt after the first time she had sex with Viktor, of how she felt like the whole world should be able to see the change in her. Was that what Neville saw now?

"So, what," she asked. "All it takes is some new clothes and suddenly I'm hot?"

"No, not the clothes," Neville said. "Not just the clothes, anyhow." He frowned for a moment, frustrated by his inability to express his thoughts.

"They seem more like a symptom than a cause," he said.

"A symptom?" Hermione asked, with mock asperity. "Like for a disease?"

She saw a flash of alarm in Neville's eyes as, just for a moment, he feared she'd really taken offense. Then he grinned.

"You know that's not what I mean."

"Do I? I don't know what you mean," Hermione replied, looking up at him. She was standing very close to him, she realized. Or he was standing very close to her.

Neville was aware of it too. His gaze dropped for an instant to her cleavage again before bouncing back up. He licked dry lips.

"You seem...more real," he said. "Not...grounded, exactly, but like you're more present." He nodded slowly, as if satisfied with his answer finally. "You don't seem to be living entirely in your head anymore."

Hermione blinked. She'd been accused many times of living in her own little world by many teachers, and by her parents. Of paying too much attention to her imagination and not enough to the real world. It wasn't a new criticism, even if they'd never put it quite the way Neville had.

Only he wasn't being critical. He was describing his experience of her, and he was telling her that she'd changed. That she was no longer living entirely in her own head. Hermione felt a chuckle bubble up out of nowhere.

She'd achieved exactly what her teachers and her parents had wanted for all those years—she was paying more attention to the world around her. They'd be horrified if they knew the source of that change. Shocked and horrified—because the impetus for the change was sex, and her pursuit of it.

Speaking of which...she met Neville's gaze directly. "So you think I'm hot?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Is that why you wanted to walk me home?" They were closer still now, speaking softly.

Neville nodded. "I wanted to ask you out."

"Okay." They were almost nose to nose now. "Ask me."

"Hermione, would you like to go--"

Hermione's lips met his and stifled his question. She'd never kissed anyone with stubble before. It was slightly bristly and tickled just a little, but didn't detract from the kiss. Neville's mouth was slack for a moment, caught by surprise, but he recovered quickly and returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

He pulled her close, and Hermione melted into his arms. It felt good to have his arms around her, and his mouth pressed to hers. The kisses went on for some time, wandering from mouth to cheeks, eventually raining on her neck and earlobes. He liked it when she nibbled at his earlobes.

After a time, the make-out session wound down. Hermione stepped back, feeling aroused and eager. Judging by the erection Neville tried unsuccessfully to conceal, he felt likewise. Hermione took his hand. "C'mon," she said.

Neville managed to complete his invitation on the walk. Hermione agreed to go to dinner with him on Friday evening.

As they approached her dorm, Hermione scanned the windows. The windows of the room she shared with Ginny were dark. That wasn't a guarantee that Ginny was out, but the odds were pretty good. She glanced at Neville frequently as they walked, wondering what he'd be like in bed.

It occurred to her that she was about to fall into bed with still another lover only hours after being dumped. She really was a slut, wasn't she? All her worries about how Viktor had reacted, about her own less than upright behavior, swept away in a rush of hormones.

She shook herself mentally. Whatever. She'd worry about all that tomorrow. Tonight she was going to get laid. Again.

When they reached the front door of her dorm, Neville pulled her into another enthusiastic kiss. She returned it twofold, holding him tightly. They kissed for several minutes, Hermione becoming ever more aroused, anticipating the excitement and pleasure of a new lover.

It came as a shock when Neville broke the kiss to meet her eyes. "Well, I should get going and let you get to bed," he announced. "It's late. I'll see you Friday?"

Hermione stared at him, uncomprehending, jarred by the sudden reversal. No! He couldn't leave! She was going to—she wanted to—why was he leaving now?

"Friday?" Neville repeated.

"Uhm, yes," Hermione said. "Friday."

"Okay," Neville said, taking a step backward, smiling happily. "See you then." He turned and started back toward his own dorm.

Don't go! I want to fuck you! But she didn't say it. The words stuck in her throat as familiar demons rose to surround her. Maybe he wasn't interested. Maybe she'd misread the situation terribly. Or maybe she'd come on too strong? Was that even possible?

Hermione watched him until he vanished into the dark. She shivered, the cold night air colder still after having Neville's arms around her. Time to go inside. Alone.

"Fuck."


	19. Chapter 19

The room was empty when Hermione checked. She wasn't sure if she was pleased or disappointed to have the room to herself. Maybe a little of both.

Hermione brushed her teeth and undressed, then climbed into bed. She turned off the bedside lamp and sighed in the darkness. This wasn't how she'd intended to end her evening. How could Neville have bailed like that?

Was he just shy? He'd been quick enough to return her kiss, and had been an eager partner in the make-out session that followed, so that didn't seem likely. Was he just being gentlemanly? Not assuming anything, and not pressing? Maybe. But if so, his intentions were good but badly misplaced. He could have gotten into her panties that night if he hadn't practically fled the scene.

Frankly, he still could. She'd thought she was going to get laid and now she was all revved up with nobody to help her out. Hermione's hand drifted down to gently caress her vulva through her panties, imagining that Neville knocked on her door and she let him in to talk, and one thing led to another and....

Hermione sighed again. This wasn't working. It was strange, but as eager as she was for sex now, she found masturbation difficult and unrewarding. Just like it had been back home before her awakening. She'd masturbated only occasionally, and always in her own bed late at night when she could be fairly sure she wouldn't be interrupted or—oh god—discovered doing it.

She'd usually come on those occasions, and the orgasms were nice enough, but nothing to write home about. Given the anxiety and guilt that surrounded those efforts, they didn't often seem worth pursuing. She'd ignored her libido as much as she could, only allowing her fingers to slip beneath the waistband of her panties when the need grew too troublesome to ignore any longer.

Masturbating while she watched Ginny having sex had been vastly more exciting than anything she'd done up to that time. She knew now that in theory it could be far more exciting than she'd imagined previously. In practice, though, it just wasn't as much fun. The few times she'd tried it, alone in the room, in her bed, it hadn't been the thrilling experience she'd had watching Ginny and her lover.

It was still the furtive, guilty experience she remembered from home—

Her phone chimed.

Hermione yanked her hand from her panties, feeling guilty, as if she'd been caught doing something shameful.

She checked the phone.

_You okay?_ The text was from Draco.

Hermione considered her answer, then typed, _I'll be fine_

_Heard it was harsh._

_Not fun,_ Hermione typed. _Viktor dumped me_

No reply for a minute. Hermione watched the bubbles indicating Draco was typing. They appeared and disappeared. What was he composing and deleting, Hermione wondered. Finally he texted, _Sorry. His loss._

_Thanks,_ Hermione replied. _It's my own fault._ Which was only the truth.

_Not just yours._

_You didn't cheat on him._

_You didn't do it alone either._

Hermione looked at his reply for a minute, considering possible responses. It was Monday night. She had classes tomorrow morning. It was late. But she was horny, and feeling rejected by Viktor. And a little bit by Neville.

Hermione typed out a reply but hesitated over it. Should she send it?

Yes. She hit send. It was done.

_I'm alone now. Wanna come over?_

She waited anxiously, watching the screen as the seconds passed.

_Is this a booty call?_

Hermione grinned as she typed her response. _Yes._

_You're on,_ Draco responded. _See you in ten._

Hermione tossed her phone aside, grinning broadly. She felt giddy with relief and anticipation, surprised by how powerful her reaction was. Getting turned down by Draco would have been a major blow after everything else.

But he hadn't turned her down. He was on his way over.

Hermione twitched the covers aside and got out of bed to unlock the door to her room. On the way back to her bed she dropped her t-shirt and then her panties on the floor. She switched on the lamp again, then pulled the covers up as she settled down again to wait, feeling deliciously naughty. Lying naked in bed, her door unlocked, waiting for a man to come join her? Her mother would have a conniption if she knew.

For once the thought didn't dampen her excitement. Hermione entertained herself by imagining her mother's shocked expression, imagining her spluttering response as Hermione boldly announced her sexual freedom was actually entertaining. The reality would be very different, of course, but the fantasy was...empowering. And one day, Hermione knew, one day—when she was ready—the fantasy would yield to reality, and the truth of who she was and who she chose to be would be revealed.

A gentle knock interrupted her daydreams.

"Come in," Hermione called.

The door eased open and Draco poked his head inside. "Hermione?"

"Here," she said, as if he couldn't see her in the small room.

Draco stepped inside, smiling, and closing the door behind him. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. "Thanks for inviting me."

Hermione smiled without speaking.

Draco approached her, glancing down at the clothes on the floor. He looked again at Hermione, who lay with the covers pulled up to her neck. A slow grin spread across his face. "Are you naked under there?"

Hermione was tempted for a moment to fling the covers aside and reveal her nudity to him. Instead she just matched his grin. "Come find out."

Draco sat down on the edge of her bed and leaned in to kiss her. One hand slipped beneath the covers to cup a naked breast. Hermione broke the kiss abruptly.

"Cold!" she gasped. "Your hands are cold."

Draco withdrew his hand. "Can't be helped. It's cold out there."

The shock of cold fingers on her skin hadn't dampened her desire. Hermione sat up, well aware of the covers falling to expose her breasts to his gaze. "I guess not," she agreed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, exploring his mouth with her tongue.

Draco returned the kiss enthusiastically though he kept hands to himself, wriggling as he shed his jacket. Hermione grabbed at his shirt, pulling it free of his jeans. She had to stop kissing him to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

She watched eagerly as he stood and stripped. He was just as hot as she remembered, slender, pale, and perfect. His cock wasn't fully erect yet, the glans still covered by the foreskin, but he was getting there. It was thick and only of average length, though the lack of hair made him appear longer.

Hermione didn't care. He knew how to use it, and that was what mattered. She felt her growing arousal as an emptiness between her legs, a sort of hunger that she needed to satisfy. She made room for him to slip beneath the covers with her, excited by the predatory look in his eyes and wondering if he saw the same desire in her face.

Draco pulled her into his arms, kissing her again. His hands were still cool, but not as cold as earlier. Hermione returned the kiss, letting her own hands wander, admiring the width of his shoulders and the curve of his lower back and ass. She could feel his cock trapped between them, long and hard and hot.

His mouth slipped away from her own. "This was a good suggestion," he growled, his lips brushing her ear before he nipped at the lobe. His lips and tongue teased her neck, kissing and licking and nipping at her flesh. Hermione shivered against him, her nipples getting even harder, if that were possible.

Hermione clung to him, letting out a shaky breath. He'd discovered how sensitive her neck and ears were last time and clearly hadn't forgotten. It was as if there were a direct connection between her ear and neck and her clit. She wrapped a leg around his thigh and ground her Mons against him, wanting to feel him inside her.

She felt his smile against her neck. "Like that, do you?" he asked, knowing full well that she did. Something about the smugness in his voice challenged her.

Hermione responded by pushing him over onto his back and pushing herself up to kneel astride his thighs. "You know I do," she said.

She leaned down, holding eye contact as she did. "Just like I know you like this," she added, taking one of his nipples in her mouth. It was so small compared to her own, just a tiny nub. Nonetheless, he hissed as if burned when she sucked at it, arching his back to offer himself up.

She caressed his other nipple with her thumb and forefinger, gratified by the shudder she felt traverse his body. He wasn't the only one who'd learned something from their marathon fuck session the other night. She kept up the onslaught until she felt him pluck her hand away, and gently turn her face away.

Hermione accepted his silent submission. She sat up again, grinning at him, seeing him grin back, both enjoying the pure fun of being naked together. She was wet now, wet and open, the need for something to fill that emptiness she felt growing stronger. A glance showed his cock standing fully erect, the pink glans fully exposed now. Fully exposed and oh so sensitive.

Hermione edged forward until his cock lay nestled between her labia. She rocked her hips, sighing with pleasure at the feel of him sliding between her lips. It would so easy—so very easy—to shift her posture just a little and impale herself on him. Just swallow him whole, revel in the feel of his cock filling her up.

Draco was totally in sync with her. "My condoms," he said, gesturing at the jeans lying next to the bed.

Hermione shook her head impatiently. She wanted so badly to just fuck him right now, and damn the consequences. But she didn't. She rose onto her hands and knees, leaning over Draco to grasp for and finally pull open the drawer of her bedside table.

Draco took the opportunity to fondle her breasts and take one rigid nipple in his mouth. Hermione moaned at the sensation, pausing to enjoy it for a moment longer before she pulled a bundle of condom packets from the drawer. She knelt over Draco on her knees and one hand, the condoms in the other.

"A little help," she said to Draco.

Working together they got one package open and rolled into position.

Hermione rocked gently above him, feeling once more the slippery friction as his cock slid between her labia. This time she didn't resist the urge to tilt her hips. She felt the blunt tip penetrate, hesitate, then slide inside. She paused, anticipating the experience for just a moment longer.

She let her weight drive him deeper. Then deeper still, his thickness opening her up. "Oh god," Hermione moaned. It felt so goddamn good. She settled lower still, eyes closed to focus on the sensations, until she was completely impaled.

When she opened her eyes, Draco was grinning up at her. "What?"

"Your face," he said. "You look so goddamned happy."

Hermione smiled despite feeling self-conscious for a moment. Then she shrugged mentally. She was happy, and why shouldn't she show it? She leaned closer, giving him a smug look. "I am happy. I've got you right where I want you."

Draco pulled her down to sprawl against his chest, kissing her fiercely. "I think you mean you've got me right where I want you," he said afterward.

"You talk too much," Hermione said. "Less talking. More fucking."

Draco chuckled. "Hey, you're the one on top. That's your job."

Hermione pouted at him. "Fine," she said.

She pushed herself upright again, her hands on his shoulders. She tilted her hips experimentally once or twice, liking the feel of his cock shifting slightly inside her. Nice enough, she thought, but she could do better.

Shifting more of her weight to her hands, she lifted her hips a couple of inches. The slippery friction of his cock slipping away was delicious. She dragged herself nearly the length of him, leaving only the bulbous head of his cock still engaged. The feel of him parting her flesh once more when she let her weight pull her back down was equally delightful.

She did it again, and then again. God, but it felt good. She kept it up, moving faster as her assurance grew. Draco lay still, content to let her do all the work, though his hands roamed her body, caressing and stroking her all over. The pleasure she felt increased steadily, aided by unexpected jolts when Draco's thumb brushed her clit or his fingers tweaked her nipples.

Hermione picked up her pace. She could sense her climax building, the heat gathering deep inside as the tension rose. Draco's hands settled on her hips now, steadying her as she rode him faster and more energetically. She was panting now, from excitement as much as from the need for oxygen.

"Oh god," she whispered. Or maybe she just whined. She couldn't tell, she was just so close now, so close! She rode Draco frantically, consumed with desire. The tension became unbearable—and then she was coming, the pleasure roaring through her body like fire. She shook from the intensity of it, shuddered and found herself unable to breathe. It went on for some timeless interval before fading.

Hermione slumped, barely able to support herself. Her cheeks, throat and chest were flushed. She could feel the heat of it. She gasped for air, out of breath and almost dizzy. A thudding noise caught her attention: someone pounding on the wall to her left. It took some seconds for her to connect the dots.

If her cheeks hadn't already been aflame they would have caught fire now.

A glance at Draco confirmed it. "That was quite a show," he remarked.

"Was I..." She didn't finish the question. There was no need.

"Loud?" Draco asked. "Babe, nobody on this floor has any doubts about what you're doing in here."

Hermione closed her eyes, embarrassed beyond words. And yet, if she were honest with herself, also very pleased, and even aroused. So her neighbors knew she was having sex. So what? They were all adults, right?

She opened her eyes again and met Draco's gaze. He was still hard, still filling her up. She rolled her hips and was rewarded by Draco's eyes fluttering nearly closed as he groaned, and by a shiver of pleasure of her own. She'd come once, but knew she could come again and again, and would. The more she came, the more she wanted to come. "Let's give 'em something to really pound the wall about."

"I like the way you think," Draco said.

Hermione looked at the wall. "Sorry, not sorry," she called. They probably didn't hear that. But she had no doubt they'd hear from her again. Repeatedly.

She looked at Draco again. "How do you want me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Draco said. "But since you did, on your knees."

Hermione dismounted, feeling a momentary pang of disappointment as his cock slid free of her. She turned to face the foot of her bed, spreading her legs as she knelt there, hands grasping the edge of her desk.

She'd barely settled into position before Draco pressed close behind her, sliding his cock inside her again. She gasped at the delightful feeling of being filled once more. Draco's sigh of pleasure told her he enjoyed it as well.

Hermione felt his hands settle on her hips, holding tightly. He began to thrust into her. Slow, steady thrusts at first. Each advance and retreat brought its distinct pleasure—the delightful friction as he pulled back, slipping out of her grip, then the sensation of her flesh parting as he impaled her anew.

It wasn't enough to bring her to orgasm again, but it felt really good.

It wasn't enough for Draco either. His pace increased gradually, driving her arousal and his to a higher pitch. Hermione clung to the desk, rocking slightly as he drove himself into her with greater speed and force.

Now she could feel herself starting the climb to another climax.

She thrust back against him, wanting more. Faster, harder, just more.

Draco muttered something Hermione didn't catch, and didn't care about. The gathering tension in her body was all that mattered now. "Don't stop," Hermione begged. She was so close now.

Draco pounded her relentlessly, pursuing his own pleasure, every frantic stroke driving her closer to ecstasy.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," she prayed. "Please don't—"

Her words failed her, voice choked off as pleasure stole away her breath and locked her muscles. She went rigid, unable to move. Draco's grip grew painfully tight on her hips, pulling her hard against his body.

He'd stopped moving, his cock buried inside her. Hermione felt it inside her, felt the resistance, the waves of pleasure pulsing through her body with every time her pussy clamped down on it.

Hermione slumped, forearms and forehead pressed into the mattress beneath her, as her orgasm faded. Her face was hot, and her breath as well. The smell of sex permeated the room and she loved it. She'd learned to associate that scent with immense pleasure.

Draco's grip eased, but continued to hold her steady as he resumed fucking her. Hermione moaned aloud. Her arousal had fallen following her orgasm, but not very far. She was close to another.

The glorious sensation of his cock filling her up was equaled only by the delicious friction when he withdrew. Hermione moaned, trying to move, trying to rock against Draco's thrusts. She wanted longer, harder, faster strokes to heighten her pleasure.

He was having none of it. He held her motionless, his steady, relentless thrusts driving her closer and closer to another peak, but at his pace. Hermione whimpered, desperate for the ecstasy she could sense looming so close. She panted. She babbled. Begged.

Draco never acknowledged her desperation.

The explosion, when it came, was all the greater for the enforced wait. Hermione was distantly aware that she was crying, babbling, perhaps screaming. She didn't care. All that mattered was the pleasure that engulfed her, that blotted out all thought before receding only to roll over her again and again.

The next time she was able to focus, she was lying on her belly, where she'd collapsed when the endless pleasure reduced her to a boneless, gasping, sweat-soaked mess. Draco sprawled on top of her, equally sweaty and breathless. He'd never missed a stroke when she fell onto her belly, continuing to fuck her hard and fast. Several more orgasms left her quivering before he drove himself into her and bellowed through his own climax.

For a time Hermione just basked in the afterglow of so many orgasms. Her thoughts were disjointed, repeatedly derailed by flashbacks to the pleasure she'd experienced. This was the best sex yet. It couldn't keep getting better, could it? And if it did, how would she endure it?

Her breathing slowed and gradually she became uncomfortable with Draco's weight pressing down on her. She squirmed silently until he rolled onto his side—and then sat up.

Hermione sighed, happy to be able to breathe again. She silently watched Draco stand up and vanish into the bathroom to dispose of a condom. He walked back into view and stood by the side of the bed for a moment looking at her.

His gaze made Hermione uncomfortable. She was naked, sweaty, and her hair was a mess. She combed her fingers through it, feeling damp hairs plastered to her skin along her hairline. He couldn't find her attractive now.

And yet his expression said otherwise. It was the look a cartoon wolf gave to some innocent creature he imagined as a stack of steaks. It was simultaneously exciting and alarming to feel such intense desire from him. She wondered if her own expression mirrored his.

Certainly she found him attractive, and not in spite of but because of his recent exertions. He'd fucked the hell out of her. She'd be favorably inclined toward anyone who could make her feel such pleasure. Perhaps it was just that he felt likewise.  
Shove over, you," Draco growled, disrupting her thoughts.

You're overthinking this, Hermione told herself. She pushed herself onto her side. It took more effort than she expected. Her limbs were still feeling noodly, not yet recovered from the shattering experience of so many orgasms in so short a time.

Draco stretched out on his side, facing her.

He didn't speak. He just studied her face for a moment before kissing her abruptly, fiercely. Possessively, even.

Well, she could get behind that. She was feeling a little possessive of him as well. She wanted to do this again, and often. She kissed back just as fiercely, until by unspoken agreement, they separated again.

"Do you like role-playing games?" Hermione's question surprised her as much as it did Draco.

"What?"

"Do you like role-playing games?"

Draco shrugged. "I play console games. Is that what you mean?"

"No, I mean, like tabletop games. With dice?"

"Oh." Draco shook his head. "Not really." His brow wrinkled for a moment, then smoothed out as he realized what she was really asking. "What about you? Do you like ball games?"

"Playing or watching?"

"Either."

Hermione hesitated, then opted for the truth. "No."

That set the pattern for the next few minutes. They questioned one another on topic after topic. Hermione liked role-playing games, and science fiction and fantasy in all it's forms—books, TV shows, movies, fan-fiction. Draco didn't. He didn't even know what fan-fiction was.

Draco played a lot of computer games, as well as basketball, football, and other sports. He read a lot, but his tastes almost never overlapped Hermione's. He hiked and camped out and liked classic cars. His hobbies and passions were almost painfully cliched. Hermione's weren't—as much—but they didn't match his at all.

The conversation ran down.

"Well, damn," Draco said after a minute's silence. "That's disappointing."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. It was disappointing, but that didn't prevent them both from smiling at one another. They were lying closer together now, Draco idly caressing the curve of Hermione's hip and waist.

"We've got nothing in common, it seems."

"So it seems," Hermione agreed. She held his gaze. His cock, when her exploring fingers found it, was soft at first but responded almost immediately.

"Almost nothing," Draco corrected her.

"Just sex," Hermione whispered. Could they do that? Could she?

"Not much to base a relationship on," Draco replied just as softly.

"So we won't date, then?"

"Is there any point to it?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "I guess not. As long as you'll still fuck me."

That hungry look reappeared in Draco's eyes. "Every chance I get."

"Same here," Hermione promised. "So we're, what? Fuckbuddies?" She was thrilled by the idea, and at the same time aware of just how far she'd fallen from the good girl she'd once tried so hard to be.

"Sounds good to me."

"Me too."

Hermione studied his face in silence. His cock was nearly erect now, growing in length and getting harder as she played with it. "One thing," Draco said.

His fingertips stroked a nipple. It stiffened and Hermione felt her desire become less abstract and a lot more immediate.

"What's that?" she asked. She wanted to feel him inside her again, wanted more pleasure, and felt like she'd agree to anything to get that.

"We won't be exclusive," Draco said. "I don't want what happened between you and Viktor to happen again."

Hermione's hand stilled. "You mean...?"

"If you want to sleep with someone else, you can."

"Okay." It was more than okay. It was incredible. She'd only slept with two guys since she'd discovered good sex, and as much fun as Draco was, and would continue to be, she already knew she wanted more. More sex, and more lovers. Maybe a lot more.

"And so can I."

She'd known that was coming, and she was fine with it.

"Okay."

"But right now," Draco said, "I want to fuck you again. What do you say?"

Hermione grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I say yes!"


	20. Chapter 20

Though it started on Tuesday, the week dragged on interminably. Hermione didn't expect to hear from Viktor again, and she didn't. She heard from Draco, though. She joined him in his room Wednesday afternoon. They were both free but his roommate had afternoon classes. By the time she kissed him goodbye, she'd come several times, and he'd fucked her twice.

Hermione's last class was over at noon on Friday. She'd arranged all her classes for mornings for just that reason. It left the whole afternoon free for other things. Studying, reading, gaming. Or sex, though that hadn't been on her to-do list when she'd set up her schedule.

Sadly, it wasn't on her to-do list that afternoon either. Her date with Neville started at six pm. She had hours to kill before then. She studied for a while, but that only killed an hour or so. She tried reading, but couldn't concentrate on the book. Scrolling through Reddit was a good time sink, and when she surfaced another couple of hours had passed.

She still had hours to go. It was exhausting!

Ginny blew through the room at one point, returning from an afternoon class to prepare for her own date that evening. She'd showered, shaved her legs, dressed and primped in the mirror before leaving Hermione alone again. She'd also called dibs on the room days ago, so Hermione had to hope that Neville's roommate would be out, or at least understanding. Assuming he was interested enough to act.

Hermione still didn't know how to take his reaction after they'd made out on her doorstep. She'd been ready to sleep with him—had wanted to sleep with him. And he'd been interested, she was certain. The tent in his pants had been proof of that. So why had he broken away so abruptly?

By the time he knocked at her door she'd put the question aside. He was here, and that was what mattered. Neville was wearing dark slacks and shoes, and a deep blue dress shirt under a dark jacket, and he looked good in them. He also had flowers in his hand, which he offered to her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, more touched than she expected by the gesture. She invited him in while she found a vase to put them into and filled it. Neville complimented her on her own outfit—tight jeans and a red blouse that hugged her figure, at least what there was of it.

It turned out that Neville had a car. Or access to a car, since he shared it with his older brother, a junior, two years ahead of him. He made a point of opening the door for her, another gentlemanly gesture that made Hermione feel special. He was kind and attentive and he shared at least some of her interests. She had high hopes for their date.

And in most respects, the date met her expectations. Neville took her to dinner at a nice restaurant, but not so upscale that she worried about the prices. They talked about gaming, science fiction and fantasy, and television and movies—and their interests overlapped quite a lot.

After dinner, they saw a movie. Neville put his arm around Hermione, who snuggled up to him eagerly, glancing up at him frequently. He met her gaze occasionally when he sensed her attention on him, but paid most of his attention to the movie. It was entertaining, but it wasn't what Hermione was hoping for out of the evening.

Afterward, he drove them back to campus. When he parked the car, Hermione considered just lunging across the console to grab him and kiss him thoroughly. Maybe that would communicate what she wanted! But she didn't. His gentlemanly behavior reminded her very strongly of the few dates she'd had back home, and she felt herself falling back into old habits.

Neville opened her door for her and walked her from the parking lot back to her dorm, one arm over her shoulder. Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist. The warmth of his body was nice. It wasn't raining for a change, but it was cold and damp. Not conducive to lingering outside.

They paused outside the main entrance. Hermione turned to face him, taking both of his hands in hers. She stood very close, almost standing on his toes, wondering if he was getting her signals yet. If so, he wasn't responding to them. It was frustrating and confusing.

She liked him and she knew he liked her. They had a lot of interests in common, and conversations came easily and roamed across numerous topics, with plenty of laughter. And he was hard. She could feel his erection brushing her abdomen, though he seemed to be trying to avoid it.

Hermione tightened her hold on his hands and rose onto her toes to kiss him. As before, he responded by returning the kiss eagerly. She released his hands to pull him closer. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer still.

Yes, he was definitely hard—and well-endowed based on what she felt pressing against her body. Her simmering desire came to a boil, a familiar aching emptiness between her legs rising so abruptly she gasped at the intensity of it. She wanted to feel his weight against her body, wanted to feel him rocking against her, inside her.

Hermione broke the kiss, though they remained locked in one another's' arms, her lips only inches from his. "Do you want to come inside?" she asked. "My roommate has dibs on the room tonight, but we could hang out in the lounge."

"What?" Neville blinked at her, as he struggled to focus on what she'd said. Hermione smiled, pleased to see him dazed by his own desire.

"Dibs on the room? She's studying on a Friday night?"

Hermione caught his gaze and held it. "No," she said. "She's not studying."

"No? Then, what—oh. She has a guy in there?"

Hermione nodded.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where are you going to stay?"

"Well, we could hang out in your room, if your roommate isn't around." That got a reaction. Neville got even harder—and he knew it, to judge by the color that darkened his cheeks.

"That's not—I mean, he's there. Or will be there."

Hermione kissed him again. "We could still hang out there for a while, couldn't we?" She felt horny enough to risk getting caught making out, if it came to that. Or worse. In fact, the idea of getting caught in bed with Neville thrilled her.

She'd be naked, riding Neville cowgirl style, her back to the door. Light floods the room. She turns, exposing her bare breasts to a stranger, pinned by his gaze, aware of his arousal as he responds to the sight and sound and smell—

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

Hermione's fantasy collapsed, punctured by Neville's words. "What? Why?"

"You don't really know me, Hermione. This is our first date."

"So?" As arguments went, it was hardly persuasive.

"So, it—it wouldn't be right," Neville said.

"But you want to, don't you?" Hermione knew he did. He was rock hard, his cock pressing into her flesh impossible to miss. God, she wanted to fuck him.

"Yes, but—"

Hermione waited, but he didn't continue. "And I want to—"  
Now it was her turn to pause mid-sentence. I want to fuck you is what she meant to say, but she feared using such a blatant term would only make things worse.

"I want to. You want to. Why shouldn't we?" She continued to hold him, unable to resist moving against him, teasing him. 

Neville made a strangled noise and then pulled away. "I'm sorry, Hermione. We can't. It just wouldn't be right."

"Neville!" Hermione couldn't believe this was happening. She was throwing herself at him, and he was saying no. It hurt.

He shook his head. "I like you, Hermione. I like you a lot. I don't want to move too fast and ruin things."

Hermione stared at him, shocked by his rejection, and hurt, and a little angry too. She'd thought she was going to get laid, and now it wasn't happening. She opened her mouth, uncertain which of half a dozen arguments she was going to try—when she saw his anguished expression. Really saw it.

This wasn't any easier for him than it was for her. He wanted to say yes. She could see it in his face, as if the raging boner in his pants wasn't evidence enough. But he was determined to do the right thing, even if that was absolutely not what she wanted from him. He was being gentlemanly and respectful and basically behaving exactly the way her mother would want Hermione's dates to behave.

The way she'd have expected him to behave not that long ago. Maybe even the way she'd have wanted him to behave, before she met Ginny.

"Do you understand, Hermione?"

Hermione looked into his eyes and saw the concern there—and the fear of rejection, too. The fear that she would react badly. That she would be angry or resentful and not want to see him again. And she was unhappy to be refused, but she liked him. And he liked her.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Yeah, I do." She mustered a smile that probably wasn't as bright as she was trying for, but the best she could manage. "I understand," she said. "And you're right."

She didn't believe that for a moment. She'd still happily drag him off to bed right now if she could. But it didn't hurt to say so. She liked spending time with him. Tonight had been fun. She'd wanted a lot more fun, but it wasn't going to happen. Not with Neville.

They talked for a couple more minutes, agreeing to another date next weekend. Hermione gave Neville another kiss—a chaste kiss, this time—and walked inside her dorm. She waved to him through the window and watched him walk away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione stepped outside again.


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione knocked on Draco's door. She'd seen the light on in his room from outside as she'd approached his dorm. She could have texted him, but didn't want to for reasons she didn't care to think much about.

"Come in."

Hermione stepped inside. Good. Draco was alone. He sat at his desk, his laptop open and a notebook open in front of him. He glanced over. "Hey," he said. "I thought you had a date."

Hermione closed the door and locked it behind her. "I did."

She walked over and sat on Draco's bed. He made a noise that she assumed meant he'd heard her, but didn't reply. His focus had returned to his laptop. That was unusual, in her experience. Usually she was the focus of his attention.

Of course, she'd told him she had a date tonight, and he hadn't been expecting her.

Hermione unbuttoned her coat and took it off. "It's cold out there," she remarked.

"Yeah?" Draco's attention was still on his laptop.

Hermione frowned, disappointed by his lack of reaction.

She scrambled off of his bed and walked over to stand beside him. "Yeah," she said. Some kind of spreadsheet filled the laptop screen and continued to hold Draco's attention. That wouldn't do.

Hermione squeezed into his lap, interrupting whatever he was doing. "My hands are freezing," she said. She demonstrated by clasping his face in both hands.

Draco flinched away from her cold fingers. He grabbed her wrists to pull them away from his face. "Yes, they are," he said.

She saw his focus shift, saw the way he became aware of her body, of the way she sat on his lap, her face—her mouth—so close to his own. He released one of her wrists to close his laptop.

"Oh!" A knowing smile appeared. "You want to get laid. Why didn't you say so?"

Hermione shrugged. "Do I have to?"

Draco opened the first button on her blouse. "No," he said. "I guess not."

He continued unbuttoning her blouse, leaning in to kiss her as he did. "So I guess your date was a bust?" he asked afterward.

Hermione shrugged. "It was fine."

"Okay," Draco said agreeably. He reached into her open blouse to cup her breast in his palm. "Nice bra."

"Thanks."

"Is it new?" His thumb caressed her nipple through the black silk, sending a thrill down her spine.

"Yeah."

Draco kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth as he continued fondling her breasts—with both hands now. Hermione squeezed her thighs together, feeling herself growing more aroused by the second.

"Your date is an idiot," Draco announced after the kiss.

He pulled Hermione's blouse free of her jeans. Hermione cooperated in freeing her arms. When he had it off of her, Hermione glanced back at the door to the room. "Is your roommate coming back?"

"Nah, it'll be fine," Draco said. He unclasped her bra and removed it. Hermione arched her back as he ducked to take a nipple in his mouth. Only a moment's attention brought it to a peak. He caressed it for a moment longer before applying his mouth to the other nipple.

Hermione giggled, suddenly ticklish and pulled away.

Draco stood abruptly, scooping her up in his arms like a bride. Hermione gasped, surprised—and then marveled at his strength, further aroused by how effortlessly he did it. He walked over to lower her onto his bed, leaning down to give her a passion-filled kiss that only added to the urgent desire she felt.

"Get naked, young lady," Draco commanded her, standing again. "And I'll join you in a minute."

Hermione kicked off her shoes and wriggled out of her clothes as Draco vanished into the bathroom. When she was naked, she slipped under the blanket just in case Draco's roommate burst into the room without warning. It was exciting to imagine but here and now it would just be embarrassing.

Draco reappeared from the bathroom. He moved through the room, checking that the doors were locked, turning on music, turning off the overhead light, and finally stripping as he stood over Hermione. He wasn't fully erect yet, but there was no mistaking his interest.

Hermione rolled up onto one elbow. "Come closer," she demanded.

She grasped the base of his cock. He was clean shaven and smooth to the touch. She swallowed the head, swirling her tongue around it. Draco groaned and she smiled around her mouthful of cock. He tasted clean but indefinably male, a taste she liked.

But mostly she just liked giving him pleasure.

He grew harder and larger, too large for her to take any more in her mouth. She stroked his length with her hand while she caressed and licked the head of his cock. He made sounds of pleasure and thrust his hips slowly, following her lead. His hands rested gently on her head without trying to guide her.

Too soon her jaw tired and she eased away, looking up at him with a grin.

Draco grinned back. "Thanks."

"Any time," Hermione said.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her thoroughly, easing her down until she lay on her back again. When he spoke, his lips brushed hers. "My turn."

He nuzzled her cheek, then her ear, provoking a shiver. He knew how sensitive her earlobes and the sides of her neck were. His lips and teeth and tongue teased her until she wriggled away, unable to bear any more.

Draco chuckled.

He pulled the blanket down, revealing her breasts, and repeated his actions. Hermione shivered as his mouth and hands teased her nipples into hard points. Just before it became too much, he began kissing his way down her belly. He moved very slowly but his destination was never in doubt.

Now the slow progress of his mouth down her torso became a torment all its own. Hermione wanted his mouth on her vulva, wanted him to eat her. She spread her legs beneath the blanket, impatient for his touch.

Draco refused to hurry. Inch by inch, he kissed and licked and nibbled at her skin, pushing the blanket aside just as slowly.

He took an eternity, but at last she felt his breath stir her pubic hair. Kisses followed. Hermione lifted her hips, desperate for more. Draco laid an arm across her thighs, holding her still. She groped for his head, urging him to move faster.

"Patience, grasshopper," Draco said.

"Patience, hell," Hermione gasped. She was breathing hard, revved up and eager for more.

Draco dragged her hips closer to the edge of the bed, one leg stretched along its length. He knelt beside the bed and draped her other leg over his shoulder. He brushed kisses along the insides of her thighs, edging closer to his destination with each one. Hermione whimpered, frustrated and aroused all at once.

She gasped loudly at the jolt of pleasure a kiss to her clit produced. Draco followed it up with a gliding caress of his tongue along her open lips to caress her clit more thoroughly. Hermione moaned, and groped for his head with both hands, pulling him closer. Close enough that she could feel it when he grinned at her reaction to his teasing.  
Hermione didn't care. She only cared about her pleasure.

And Draco gave her what she wanted—what she needed. He ate her pussy with enthusiasm and skill. She couldn't have said afterward what exactly he did, how he used his lips and tongue, only that he brought her to the first of many orgasms. But only the first.

He let her ride out that first climax, then buried his face between her legs again, kissing and licking and caressing her with his mouth. But now he penetrated her gently as well, first with one finger, then two. The sensation of being filled up, the stroking sensation of his fingertips, made her next orgasm stronger still.

Hermione thrashed helplessly, her body no longer hers to control, as the pleasure rolled through her and left her gasping for breath. She lay disoriented, her pulse pounding in her temples and fingertips, aware that she'd screamed but too blissfully content to care.

Draco manhandled her back into the middle of the mattress before kneeling between her legs. Hermione realized that he'd rolled on a condom while she lay drunk with pleasure. He planted a hand on either side of her head, his body looming above her. He kissed her aggressively, staking his claim over her. He'd given her what she wanted, and now he was taking what he wanted.

"Oh god, yes," Hermione breathed when he pulled away with a last tug at her lip. She wriggled beneath him, ready—eager—for him to take her.

His cock slid along her labia, retreated, thrust forward again to glide across her slippery lips without penetrating. Hermione grabbed him, frustrated by his teasing—if teasing it was. He felt hot and hard inside in the condom. She guided his next thrust into her pussy, thrilled by the sensation as he drove deep within.

Hermione's groan of pleasure echoed Draco's. He paused, a tiny shudder rolling through him, his cheek pressed to hers, his breath hot on her neck and shoulder. She loved this moment, this brief opportunity to savor the feeling of Draco's cock filling her up once more, the knowledge that he was just as excited, just as expectant as she.

She turned her head, caught his earlobe gently between her teeth for a moment, then whispered, "Fuck me, Draco. Fuck me."

He did just that.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, admiring the way his muscles danced as he moved. The slippery friction as he pulled back, leaving her empty and wanting—and then the equally delicious feeling of being impaled anew—was wonderful. Hermione moved against him, matching his rhythm, adding to his pleasure and hers.

With every thrust of his cock, Hermione's arousal grew. The pleasure pooled between her legs, stoked higher and higher. It wouldn't be long now, she knew. She reached up to cup Draco's face in her hands, holding his gaze. She saw in his eyes that he knew she was close. He knew the signs now as well as she did. Her panting breaths, the flush she could feel heating her face and neck.

Draco smirked. He fucked her faster, harder.

Hermione's fingers trembled against his face even she felt her eyes widening—and the pleasure overwhelmed her. It roared through her body like fire, burning away all restraint. She quivered all over and would have screamed her ecstasy, but Draco silenced her with a ferocious kiss.

He wrapped her in his arms, breathing in her shuddering breaths, hips still now, as he held her. Hermione clung to him as the pleasure faded, satisfaction mingled with gratitude and affection.

"Trying to keep me quiet?" she asked softly when he lifted his head.

Draco grinned. "Just trying to keep it down to a dull roar."

He drew his attention to where they remained joined at the hips with a gentle thrust. "How about you turn over?"

Hermione was only too happy to oblige, despite the twinge of disappointment she felt when he pulled out. She scrambled up onto her hands and knees, giving him what she hoped was a sexy look over her shoulder. "Like this?"

"Just like that," Draco said, kneeling up behind her. His fingertips brushed her pubic hair, then slid across her wet lips, still plenty sensitive. He caressed her briefly, fingertips teasing her clit before retreating.

A moment later, Hermione felt the welcome sensation of his cock filling her up once more. He didn't move immediately, choosing instead to caress her ass and thighs. It was nice enough, but she wanted more.

Then his hands settled on her hips, grip tightening to hold her in place. Yes! Hermione thought. Now she was gonna get it good and hard. And she did.

Hermione couldn't have said afterward how long Draco fucked her that way. All she knew was that she loved the feel of his cock pistoning inside her, the way she could tilt her hips to change how he moved inside her, or how rocking backwards to meet his thrusts added to the stimulation. All of it combined to produce that glorious tension gathering between her legs, ratcheting higher and higher until her arms folded up, and she knelt with her head in her hands, whimpering as Draco fucked her.

He paused occasionally. Perhaps to torment her by delaying her orgasm. Or maybe to hold off his own. She couldn't tell. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the timeless interval during which she hovered on the brink of orgasm. At last she sensed Draco drive himself frantically into her, his breath ragged. He hunched over her, thrusting madly.

His hand slid down her belly to finger her clit, and that was it.

Hermione screamed her ecstasy into Draco's pillow. She felt him coming. Her pussy clenched around him rhythmically as she came, and she felt his cock throbbing. It was weird and exciting at the same time. Too soon, it was over. Hermione collapsed to lie on her belly, legs splayed out, Draco sprawled on top her, just as exhausted.

He brushed her hair aside, kissing her shoulder, neck, and cheek as he did so. Before he weight became too much, he rolled away to sprawl on his side. Hermione turned her head to look at him. He lay with his head resting on his arm, sweaty and still recovering his breath.

He grinned wearily when he saw her watching him. "Well, that was fun."

"Yes it was," Hermione agreed. Her gaze dropped to his cock, only semi-erect now, the condom beginning to slip free. She wondered what it would be like to fuck him without one. Not that she was going to. She wasn't on birth control yet, though Ginny had been urging her to visit the student clinic for a prescription.

Draco followed her gaze. "Yeah," he said, "I need to dispose of that."

He climbed off the bed and vanished into the bathroom. Hermione sat up, glancing at the hallway door, then at her clothes draped over a chair. Should she get dressed again? Draco's roommate, Blaise, could show up at any time. She didn't want to get dressed. She wanted to cuddle for a while and then fuck again.

Blaise might not appreciate that. Did she care? Only sort of.

Draco exited the bathroom. He opened a dresser drawer and pulled something out of it. He offered it to Hermione. It was a green jersey. She looked up curiously.

"Bathroom's clear," Draco said. "I thought you might want something to wear if you need to use it. And if you're staying the night."

"Do you want me too?"

The question loomed larger than it ought. She'd stayed all night the first time they got together, but not since. Draco had come to her for a booty call Monday night, then returned to his room. And they'd spent an afternoon in bed together a couple of days ago. But that was it until tonight.

"Yes, I want you to stay," Draco said. He sat down next to her. "Why?"

Hermione looked away, uncertain how to say what she was thinking. She closed her eyes. No. She was not going to let her anxieties steal her voice. She looked into Draco's face, seeing no judgment. Just patience.

"Well," she said. She swallowed. "We're not dating. We agreed."

"Oh," he said. His face showed nothing. Hermione had idea how he felt about that.

"No," Draco said, "we're not dating." He smiled. "But so what? We're friends."

"We are?" He thought of her as a friend? Not just a—a playmate?

"I sure hope so," Draco said. "We're friends. With benefits. Right?"

Hermione ducked her head, brushing her hair behind an ear. "Yeah."

"Say it."

Hermione looked up. Draco watched her, looking serious.

"Friends. With—with benefits."

"Friends with benefits. Say it again."

Hermione smiled, nervous but pleased by his insistence. "Friends with benefits."

Draco nodded. "Fuckbuddies."

Hermione nodded silently.

Draco tried to look stern but the smile trying to break free ruined the effect. "Say it, Hermione."

"Fuckbuddies," Hermione mumbled.

"What?"

Hermione shook herself inwardly. "Fuckbuddies," she said, loud and clear.

"Lovers."

"Lovers," Hermione echoed, then marveled at the thought.

"So, yeah," Draco said. "I want you to stay. I like having you in my bed. I like talking to you. You remember when we met? We talked for a long time."

She remembered. "Yeah, but...."

Draco smiled again. "But I was trying to get in your pants?"

"Weren't you?"

"Of course, I was. But I enjoyed talking to you. I still enjoy talking to you."

Hermione could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. "I like talking to you."

"Well, there you go, then."

Hermione leaned into him, unreasonably pleased by it all. She heard the bolt turn in the hallway door and she clutched the jersey to her breasts in alarm. "Is it safe to enter now?" someone—Blaise, Hermione assumed—asked. The door was ajar, so her modesty was intact for the moment.

"Just a sec," Draco called.

Hermione hastily pulled the jersey on. It hung loosely on her small frame, and fell to a few inches above her knees. As long as she was careful how she moved or sat, she wouldn't flash anyone. She nodded to Draco.

"Clear!" Draco said.

The door swung open. A tall young man with dark skin, high cheek-bones, and a square jaw entered. He kicked the door closed behind him before unshouldering a backpack. The way it moved it was full of textbooks, and the solid thud it made on his desk confirmed Hermione's guess.

"You must be Hermione," he said.

"And you're Blaise," Hermione replied. He couldn't miss the jersey, or the likelihood that she was naked beneath the green fabric, but he just nodded in greeting and turned to unbutton his coat and hang it up.

Hermione abruptly raised a hand to smooth her hair, belatedly wondering just how bad a case of bed-head she had. About average, she concluded, giving her what Ginny liked to call "that just-fucked look."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said.

Blaise nodded. "You, too."

Silence fell, full of awkwardness. Hermione excused herself to the bathroom, grateful to take refuge there. She glanced at the other door, which led into Viktor's room. Was he in there now? Had he heard her having sex with Draco?

Short of knocking and finding out, there was no way to know. No reason to, either. He'd made his choice. And she'd made hers. 

Hermione used the toilet, then washed her hands. She combed her fingers through her hair, taming the worst of it a bit. She didn't have her toothbrush, but used a bit of Draco's toothpaste on a fingertip to clean her teeth as best she could.

When she exited the bathroom, Blaise had taken advantage of her absence to change into a large t-shirt and gym shorts. He said to her, "So you're staying the night, I understand?"

"Uh...yeah, I was planning to."

Blaise nodded again. "I'm tired, so I'm going to bed. You two try to keep it down to a dull roar, okay?"

"Sure thing," Draco agreed. Hermione nodded silent agreement, feeling her face warming once more.

Very shortly the room was dark and still. Hermione lay facing the wall in Draco's bed, Draco spooned up behind her. She felt uncomfortable and wondered if she'd made a mistake in deciding to stay. Remaining unusually still was difficult—she was typically a restless sleeper—and if she were in her own room she could read until she felt sleepy.

She lay awake for some time, long after Draco's steady breathing told her he'd fallen asleep. Blaise snored faintly on the other side of the room. The sound of doors opening and closing and occasional muffled voices drifted through the room. Hermione sighed and wriggled a little. Time passed. Eventually she slept.


End file.
